Our Greater Destinies
by Magister of Asariel
Summary: Irina Coldstorm has tried to forget about the fact that she is the Dragonborn. She is no hero and she's terrified of dragons, for good reason! All she wants is a family and somewhere to belong. She finds that among the Thieves Guild. But can she avoid her destiny forever? And will a certain red-haired thief be willing to let her go? (More description in author's note.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is my very first Skyrim fanfic, so I'm still getting a feel for the characters voices and all. So please review and let me know how I'm doing. This story will follow the main Thieves Guild quest line and is largely inspired by in-game events. I'll try to keep canon dialogue to a minimum, but there will be some now and then, though I'll be changing it up as well. I'll be adding a lot of my own twists to the plot in my attempt to meld the Thieves Guild and Dragon quest lines. I never thought it was very realistic that the members of the Thieves Guild (or the Dark Brotherhood, or the Companions) never acknowledge your character's role as Dragonborn, and are never involved in any aspect of that part of your character's life. In this story I'll be changing that. The Thieves Guild, and Brynjolf in particular, will be much more aware of, and even involved in, Dragonborn related things. As always, I really appreciate reviews that tell me what I'm doing right, and what I could be doing better.

—

**Chapter One**

**Ambushed**

—

A thick, cold mist clung to the ground as the stars twinkled in the moonless evening sky. A slight breeze rustled the autumn leaves above her as Irina Coldstorm plodded along wearily. The hike over the pass ad been taxing, and had taken a lot longer than she thought it would. She had hoped to make it to Riften before dark, but the last tint of orange had faded from the sky an hour ago and they were still many miles out as far as she could tell.

Irina yawned hugely and rubbed her eyes. The woman walking beside her glanced up.

"Maybe we should have stopped in Iverstead after all," Lydia commented. "We'd be in a nice warm inn right now."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Irina admitted. "Well, it's too late to reconsider, we're closer to Riften now. It shouldn't be more than another hour or so."

"That's what you said an hour ago," Lydia complained. "I thought you grew up in this area. Don't you remember it?"

"I grew up in the Rift, yes, but it's been years since I've been this far east. Besides, I wouldn't talk if I were you. You grew up in Whiterun and still got us lost up above Dragon Mound. So I think we're even."

"I suppose you're right, my Thane," Lydia said.

Irina rolled her eyes and sighed. "Lydia, stop calling me that."

"But you're my Thane," Lydia argued.

"My name is Irina. Thane sounds like a man's name."

"It's not a…"

Irina chuckled. "Lydia, it was a joke."

Lydia's brow furrowed slightly, but she made no further comment.

"I just don't like the title," Irina explained. "I'd prefer it if you'd just use my name."

"I'll try," Lydia said placatingly.

Both women's attention was drawn to the road ahead of them when several figures began to emerge from the mist, walking toward them. As they drew closer they could tell that the figures were Orcs. There were five of them, all wearing heavy armor.

Lydia instinctively gripped her sword hilt, and Irina took her bow off her back, holding it at her side. They continued on the road at an even pace, and soon they began to pass the orcs on the road. The two woman kept their gazes forward and their steps sure. The orcs eyed them closely as they passed.

Irina was about to take a breath of relief when the hair on the back of her neck stood up and goose flesh crawled across her arms. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and nocked it to her bow as she spun around to face the orc that had rushed up behind her. Lydia drew her sword, and the fight was on.

Two woman against five strong orcs seemed like no contest, but Irina was not one to give up easily, and Lydia was sworn to protect her with her life. Irina's bow sang as she released arrow after arrow, keeping nimble on her feet and out of reach of the orcs' blades. Each of the orcs was wearing heavy iron or steel armor that her arrows couldn't penetrate, so she had to aim for heads and necks, which was challenge in the foggy darkness.

After only a few moments Irina and Lydia became separated beyond sight, though Irina could still hear the sounds of Lydia's fighting. One of the orcs, a big, burly male in traditional orkish armor, came at Irina like a battering ram, determined to do her terrible damage. Irina backpedalled quickly to keep out of reach of his swinging greatsword, but he was very fast. She reached for another arrow and felt there was only one left. She would have to make this shot count.

She let the arrow go and it sang through the air, striking the orc in the sword hand. He roared with rage as his sword clattered the ground, but he paused only a moment to recover his wits. And when he did recover he was twice as angry and three times as deadly. His uninjured fist found Irina's jaw and she saw stars, then tasted dirt.

She laid there for a moment, her head spinning. But the urgency of her situation never left her. She forced her vision to clear enough so she could stand, but by then the orc was on her again. Irina reached for her sword, but the orc took a swipe at her with a long dagger. Irina jumped back and then tripped over a clump of tree roots, only just realizing she had got quite a ways from the road. She flailed her arms to catch her balance, but it did her no good. She fell backwards, landing hard on her rear.

The orc was on her in seconds, slashing with his wicked knife as Irina scrambled backwards. The blade found the flesh of her thigh, slicing a deep gash just above her knee. The white hot pain of it was almost enough to cause her to swoon, but she forced her head to stay clear. Or at least she tried to. She was disoriented enough that her movements were considerably slowed. She managed to draw her sword and block the next two swings of the orc's dagger, but she had no presence of mind to use the weapon beyond that.

Then the orc kicked her in the side and she doubled over. He grabbed her by the hair, and then his fist sent her flying. The next thing Irina knew was all the air leaving her lungs as she hit the ground, and then the world went away, swallowed by a silent darkness that was even blacker than the foggy night.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~

When Irina finally came to herself, sunlight filtered down through the leaves above her. She blinked her eyes and then held up a hand to block the glare. Even that small movement made her body scream in rebellion. It hurt to move, it hurt to _breath_. But she knew she had to move. She had to find out where she was, what had happened. Where was Lydia?

She forced herself into a sitting position, her head spinning. She sat for a moment and took stock of her situation. The road was nowhere in sight, and from the looks of things, she had fallen off a short embankment near a stream. That must have been what nocked her out. That or the fist of the orc, or both. Her leg was drenched in dirt-encrusted blood from the knee down. The wound itself was a sticky, oozy mess, the sight of which made Irina's head swim even more. So she looked away from her leg and focused on her surroundings instead.

She found her sword lying in the dead leaves a couple feet away, but there was no sign of her bow. She had to find it; that bow was the only thing she possessed that she really cared about. But first she had to find Lydia, if she was still alive.

Irina slowly pulled herself to her feet, pausing a moment to catch her balance. Then she began limping in the direction she hoped was the road, back up around the embankment she had fallen down last night. Or at least she thought it was last night. It could have been two or three nights ago for all she knew. Judging from the sun's position in the sky it was late afternoon, maybe two or three of the clock. She would be best off making for Riften before darkness descended upon her again. She needed to get some help before she bled to death or caught some sort of infection.

As she stumbled along she scanned the ground for her bow, trying to retrace her steps from the night before. But it had all been a crazy, adrenaline filled blur in the dark, and she couldn't even recall from which direction she had come, or exactly when her bow had left her hand. She called Lydia's name a few times, but received no answer. If Lydia was still alive she would head to Riften, and would probably marshal the entire city guard to come out and look for her. Lydia was as loyal as an old hound and twice as protective.

Irina finally made it to the top of the embankment where she saw signs of her struggle with the orc in the disturbed leaves and grass. And there, lying atop the damp ground was her bow. Irina moaned with relief as she snatched it up, examining it for any damage. But the sturdy elven design was still in perfect condition. She hoped she didn't meet with any more enemies before reaching Riften, for she was completely out of arrows. And, with a groan of weariness, she realized that her pack was missing, along with all her supplies and most of her coin. She had a few septims in her pocket, but it was barely enough to pay for a room at an inn. The worst part was she had no potions. Her urgency to reach Riften doubled. She needed to get help, and she needed to find Lydia. That's all that mattered right now.


	2. The Stranger

**Chapter Two**

**The Stranger**

—

Brynjolf succumbed to a jaw-cracking yawn and then rubbed his weary eyes. Only another hour before the market closed for the night, and he was more than ready to go home. He had received almost zero business today, and not only was that disheartening, it was down right boring. Not for the first time did he wonder if this little side venture of his was even worth it. But the Guild had been down on its luck for too long and he needed to do _something_ to pick up the slack.

"Hey, Brynjolf!"

An annoyed and slightly angry voice brought his attention back to the marketplace and he focused his green eyes on the man standing in front of his stall. He grinned, putting on his best business face.

"Torvald, a good evening to you, lad."

"Don't you 'lad' me, Brynjolf, I'm ten years older'n you at least. I've got a complaint against you and that 'elixir' of yours."

"Oh? A complaint, eh?" Brynjolf said with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah, it don't work like you said it would," Torvald elaborated.

Brynjolf spread his hands and smiled. "Well, did you take it right?" he asked. "If you don't take it right it doesn't work."

Torvald frowned. "What do you mean? Don't I just drink it?"

Brynjolf shook his head. "You have to drink one third of it, then sleep for three hours. Upon waking you drink another third, then eat a full meal. After that, wait another six hours before drinking the rest. Then get a good night's sleep. Should work after that."

"But I didn't do any of that," Torvald complained.

"So now you can see why it didn't work."

"But that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Torvald exclaimed.

"Sorry," Brynjolf said. "Would you like to buy another bottle and try again?"

"Not on your life. In fact, I want my money back for the first one."

Brynjolf held up both hands. "Sorry, Torvald, I don't take back empty bottles."

Torvald pointed his finger at Brynjolf. "You scheming…good for nothing…you…you…"

Brynjolf arched an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Con-artist!" Torvold finally managed.

Brynjolf put his hand over his heart and adopted a mock-hurt look. "Torvold, you're breaking my heart. Can't you just call it a loss and leave it at that? No use disrupting the peace of the marketplace, if you catch my meaning." He made a pointed glance in the direction of Maul, a large man who leaned, arms crossed, against a porch post just outside the market. Maul was watching the scene closely with his ever-vigilant gaze.

Torvold followed Brynjolf's glance and then backed down, but then he held up one finger in Brynjolf's face. "One of these days, Brynjolf…one of these days." He turned to walk away.

Brynjolf glanced at Maul again and gave him a nod that all was well. Maul returned the nod and resumed his watching of the town.

Brynjolf sighed and rubbed his brow. There had to be a better solution to their problem than selling pretend potions to the unsuspecting public. In fact, it wasn't a solution at all, just a way to keep him busy until Lady Luck decided to smile on them again. What they really needed was some new blood in their ranks. Someone with some outside luck who could kick start the operation, get things moving again. That's why he had Maul watching the city gates. He wanted to know everything there was to know about any newcomers to Riften. But after a week of observation the only newcomers had been a couple pilgrims to the Temple of Mara, and a middle-aged war veteran looking to get a job at the fishery. Suffice it to say Riften was not a very happening place.

But just as these thoughts rambled through Brynjolf's head, he noticed Maul leave his post and approach someone who had just come through the gate. It was a woman, and the fact that she wore leather armor was promising. It told that she was a woman of action, and not just a housewife or a store clerk.

But there was something else about her that drew Brynjolf out of his booth and to the edge of the market, where he leaned his elbows on the stone wall that divided the market from the rest of the town. He studied her as he studied everyone upon first meet, deciding if she would be worth his time for either business or profit.

The leather she wore was of good make, and had probably cost her a pretty coin. The same went for that fancy elven bow strapped to her back. He noticed her quiver was empty of arrows and that she herself was quite dirty; more so than the regular wear and tear of travel would account for. Then he saw the blood on her leg. But from that distance he couldn't tell what her injury was.

She spoke with Maul for only a few moments. He didn't interrogate her for as long as he usually did with visitors. As she walked away he noticed that she was limping slightly, but even so her steps were light and fluid, her leather boots making naught but a whisper on the boardwalk. Her eyes glanced in all directions as she walked, taking in every sight. She paused on the edge of the market and turned a slow circle, as if looking for something, or someone. As she made her way into the market she passed right next to Brynjolf and he was able to get a better look at her. A beam of late afternoon sunlight struck her messy auburn hair, setting it ablaze for a moment until she stepped into a shadow. He glanced down at her leg and saw the ugly gash just above her knee. That was a knife wound if he ever saw one, and he had seen plenty.

She wandered from stall to stall, perusing the wares on display with a casual grace. To the average observer she was just a shopper. But to Brynjolf's practiced eye she was sizing up a mark, he was sure of it. She stopped at Brand-Shei's booth and began talking to him about his Morrowind imports. While one hand was busy distracting the Dunmer with the item in question, the other hand casually reached out and snatched a bottle of healing potion from the edge of the counter and slipped it into her pocket. Brand-Shei didn't notice, and neither did anyone else. Anyone but Brynjolf that is.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he murmured to himself with a smile. A lass after his own heart that one was. But why would someone with enough wealth to afford that armor and that bow find it necessary to steal a healing potion? Unless she had lifted those things, too. In any case, he thought he should definitely get to know her better.

The woman finished her business at Brand-Shei's booth and headed toward the Bee and Barb Inn. With a last, long look at the streets, she slipped inside. Good, she would probably rent a room and stay around for at least a night. He would catch her later. Right now he wanted to know what Maul had found out about her.

He approached the burly man who had resumed his station at his lookout post. "So what's the dirt on the lass?" he asked softly.

"Says she came here looking for work," Maul said in his gravely voice. "Says she doesn't want to cause any trouble." He scoffed lightly at that, obviously not believing a word of it.

"Did she say what happened to her?" Brynjolf asked.

"Said she was attacked on the road by bandits. Orcs, she said."

"Orcs?" Brynjolf arched an eyebrow. "Strong lass. Anything else?"

"She said all she wants to do is get a room at the inn and wait for her companion to find her. Apparently they got separated during the bandit attack. She wasn't too eager to chat."

Brynjolf nodded and thanked Maul, then he closed up his stall in the market early and made his way to the Bee and Barb. He glanced around the common room as he closed the door behind him, but there was no sign of the newcomer. He took a seat at the bar and motioned to the Argonian innkeeper. "Keerava, a word please?" he said softly.

She approached, a scowl on her scaly face. "What do you want, Brynjolf? I already told you I can't pay you the money right now."

"Your debt is overdue, Keerava," he reminded. "Time is only your enemy here." She opened her mouth to protest again, but he held up his hand to stop her. "But that's not why I'm here. I'm interested in one of your customers. Red-haired lass, just came in here a few minutes ago."

"And why should I tell you anything about any of my customers?" Keerava demanded. "Who is she to you, besides another victim?"

Brynjolf offered a dashing smile. "She's a possible business partner," he said. "I just need to know how long she'll be staying here so I don't miss my opportunity to meet with her."

She studied him warily with her red reptilian eyes, then she snorted and shook her head.

"By the Nine, Keerava, I mean her no harm, I promise. You don't have to tell me which room she's in. I just want to know how long she's staying."

Keerava caved noticeably and began wiping the bar with a rag. "Yes, she's staying here. She payed for one night. That's all I'm telling you."

Brynjolf grinned. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Get away from my bar, Brynjolf," Keerava growled.

Brynjolf chuckled lightly and moved to a table by the wall. He sat down facing the stairs that led to the upper floor rooms for let. He ordered an ale from Talen-Jei the Argonian barkeep, and then settled in to wait. He would wait all night if he had to. Eventually the lass would have to leave her room, and when she did he would be there.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~

The hours ticked by. The dinner crowd came and went. Then the miners up from Shor's Stone filled the place with loud song and drinking for a while. Still the lass didn't show. Brynjolf was starting to get sleepy, and he had to be in the market again early in the morning to try and sell more elixirs. Maybe he'd get Sapphire to relieve him for a while so he could get some rest. She had come into the inn about an hour ago and didn't look like she was planning on leaving any time soon.

Just as he was about to stand up and approach Sapphire, someone came down the stairs and entered the common room.

It was the lass. Finally.

She still wore her leather armor, but must have left her bow and quiver in her room. Her honey-colored hair had been combed and neatly tied back, and the dirt had been cleaned from her face and arms. The wound on her leg had a tight bandage wrapped around it, and as she walked to a table across the room, Brynjolf noticed she was no longer limping.

He watched her closely as she sat down and was approached by Talen-Jei. He strained his ears and heard her order the cheapest mead on tap and a loaf of bread. Not a very nourishing meal after a hard day's travel. He'd bet all the coin he had that she was broke. Brynjolf smiled softly. This would probably work out better than he'd hoped.

After Talen-Jei brought the lass her order, Brynjolf stood up and crossed the room silently. He slid into the chair across the table from her and gave her a charming smile. Something could be said for Brynjolf's ability to woo a woman. Bright eyes, general good looks and a voice that was easy on the ears gave him an advantage over most men. Over the years he had been able to cultivate that charm so that now women rarely refused him. He would use all his charms on this one now.

"Running a little light in the pockets, lass?" he said softly.

She looked up at him with the darkest sapphire blue eyes he had ever seen. Her brow furrowed in bewilderment. "Huh? I'm sorry, what?"

"Your pockets," Brynjolf clarified. "They're a little low on coin. I can tell."

She frowned and sat up straighter, giving him a quick once-over. "How could you possibly know that?"

"It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk, what they're wearing. The things they buy…or don't buy." He glanced pointedly at her partially eaten bread loaf.

"Sizing up your mark?" she said, narrowing her eyes again. "What are you, some sort of thief? I don't think my wealth or lack thereof is any of your business." She stared into her mug, willing him to leave. But he would not be gotten rid of so easily.

Brynjolf smiled when he noticed the tell tale flicker of her eye that told him he had hit the nail on the head. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong, lass," he said. "Wealth _is_ my business. Maybe you'd like a taste."

She glanced up at him briefly. "What, are you offering me something?" she asked in surprise.

He chuckled lightly. "Did you think I was here to rob you, lass? Trust me, if I wanted anything of yours it would be in my possession already, and you'd still think it was in yours."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. Brynjolf noticed the dash of freckles on her nose and cheeks, and he had to force himself not to smile. He thought they made her look endearing.

"I'm not here to rob you, lass. I'm offering you a job."

"A job? What makes you think I'm interested in working for you?"

He gave her a placating smile. "A traveler's stomach needs more than bread to fill it, and one healing potion isn't enough to fully cure that leg."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "How did you…"

"Like I said, it's all about sizing up your mark, lass. Can you really afford to turn me down?"

She hesitated a moment longer, and Brynjolf could tell exactly when she caved. Her shoulders drooped ever so slightly and she let out a slow breath through her nose.

"What exactly did you have in mind?" she asked.

Brynjolf sat back in his chair and smiled. "I have a bit of an errand to perform," he said. "I need an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well-paid."

"What would I have to do?" she asked, leaning forward slightly, a look of interest growing in her eyes. He had her hooked now.

"It's a simple bit of finger work," Brynjolf explained. "Shouldn't be too difficult, unless you're not up for this kind of work."

"No…I'm up for it," she said. Brynjolf could almost see the cogs turning in her head as she weighed her options.

"Good. I thought you would be. Meet me in the market tomorrow morning and I'll give you the details then."

He moved to stand up, but she held out her hand to stop him. "Wait, no, I can't be running off. I have to stay right here. I got separated from my companion on the road and I have to be here when she arrives."

Brynjolf considered. "I'll be in the market all day, lass. There's no rush. Come and find me when you're ready."

She breathed a noticeable sigh of relief.

Just then the front door of the inn opened and a dark-haired woman in heavy steel armor entered, and a look of relief washed over her face. "My thane, there you are; I've been looking for you everywhere, I thought you were dead."

The lass stood up from the table, the relief upon seeing her friend very evident. "I'm fine, Lydia. I'm glad to see you alive as well."

Brynjolf stood up to leave so the two women could catch up. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, lass," he reminded, then he left the inn. Tomorrow would be the true test to see if she was worth considering further. He would probably get very little sleep tonight.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Irina stared at the man's back as he left the inn, realizing too late that she hadn't got his name. Well, it wouldn't be difficult to spot his red hair in the market; she was sure she'd have no trouble finding him. And if she couldn't, she had a strong feeling that he would find her.

"Who was that?" Lydia asked as she sat down in the chair the man had vacated.

"I didn't get his name, actually. But he offered me a job."

"Doing what?" Lydia asked in surprise.

"He didn't say, really. He said he'd give me the details when I meet him tomorrow morning." She waved it away as unimportant at the moment. "I want to know what happened to you in that fight, Lydia. Where did you go?"

Lydia blew out a breath and shook her head. "I was going to ask the same of you. I spent nearly the whole day today searching for you, and finally decided to come here and wait to see if you'd show up."

"Did you kill all the orcs?" Irina asked.

"I did eventually. They nearly overpowered me out in the open. So I retreated to a cliff with big rock outcroppings and lost them among the boulders. I gradually picked them off one at a time."

Irina sighed. "I'm glad you're all right." She went on to recount her version of events, all the way up until the stranger sat down at her table.

"I wonder what the job could be," Lydia said. "Do you know what the pay is?"

Irina shook her head. "No, but he said it pays well. Though…it may not be…entirely legal."

Lydia frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"I'm not sure, but I think he might be a member of the Thieves Guild. All the signs point to it anyway."

"Well then you shouldn't consider taking the job," Lydia concluded. "Right?"

Irina looked down into her mug at the foam floating on the surface of the dark mead. She hadn't stollen anything for several months, other than that healing potion from the market earlier. She thought she was finally putting that life behind her, willingly or not. But there was a certain appeal to the idea of doing the job for that stranger. It was a challenge, and she loved a good challenge.

"Those orcs must have taken my pack," she finally said. "We're completely broke, Lydia. I spent my last coin on a room here. I really need to take this job."

"But if it's illegal activities…" Lydia argued.

"You just let me worry about that," Irina said. "I'm meeting that man in the morning, and I'd really like it if you stayed here at the inn until I return."

"But I can't protect you if I'm not with you," Lydia protested.

Irina smiled slightly. "I'm sure I'll be fine. I have a feeling this man has no intentions of harming me. But if I don't return by afternoon then you can come look for me." She sighed. "For now though, it's late, and I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Let's get some rest."


	3. A New Bit of Luck

**A/N:** I noticed a lot of authors skim over or skip this part of the Thieves Guild quest line entirely. I've decided not to do that. In the game, Brynjolf's test in the market is a chance for the character to prove him/herself, to show what he/she is made of. I believe this is the case in a fic as well. It's a perfect opportunity to show your characters personality. To show what they are capable of or willing to do and how they feel about it. If it is skipped or even rushed through, you lose that opportunity. I of course have mixed up some of the canon dialogue and added a bit of my own. I hope you all enjoy. As always, I love to hear what you thought, so please review! :-)

—

**Chapter Three**

**A New Bit of Luck**

A heavy fog obscured the more distant buildings in town when Irina stepped out of the inn the following morning. The moisture in the air muffled the sounds on the street, making everything seem far away. The afternoon sun had yet to heat up the land and the water of the lake, so the air still smelled fresh, not of fish and stagnant water like it had yesterday evening. Irina guessed that morning was probably the best time of day in Riften for that reason alone.

Merchants were already in their stalls in the market when she arrived. She glanced around for the man with red hair, but before she saw him she heard his distinctive voice raised over the other noises of the market.

"Come get some genuine Falmer blood elixir. Live for a thousand years. See into other people's thoughts!"

Irina snorted as she made her way in the direction of the voice. Were people really gullible enough to believe such a pitch?

There he was, standing at a market booth, bottles of potions arranged on his table. She caught his eye and he gave her a slight nod. She approached him and he smiled softly as he set down the potion bottle he had been holding up for display.

"Good morning, lass," he said. "Are you ready to make some coin?"

"First things first," she said. "I never got your name."

His smile broadened. "Right you are, lass. Name's Brynjolf. May I know yours?"

"Irina," she said. "Now, tell me about this job."

Brynjolf left his booth and stood close beside her. He nodded his head to the booth on the other side of the market where the Dunmer was selling imports from Morrowind. The same booth she had swiped the healing potion from last night.

"You see that elf over there? That's Brand-Shei. There's someone that wants to see him put out of business, permanently. That's all you need to know."

Irina frowned. "Wait a minute, you're not asking me to kill him, are you?"

Brynjolf shook his head. "No, we're not going to kill him; that's not how we operate. We've been contracted to make sure he remembers not to meddle in affairs that aren't his own. So we're going to let him sit in the prisons for a few days."

Irina let out a relieved breath. She would not be hired to kill anyone for any amount of coin. Stealing was one thing, murder was something else entirely. "All right, what do I have to do?" she asked.

"It's simple," Brynjolf said. He nodded to the booth next to his and lowered his voice. "That Argonian there, that's Madesi. There's a silver ring in a strongbox under his stand. You're going to steal it while I cause a distraction. Once you have the ring, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing."

Irina arched an eyebrow. "You're assuming I know how to do any of that, or that I'm even willing to break the law."

He smirked. "Oh I know you're willing to break the law, lass. I think this isn't the first time you've pulled the wool over Brand-Shei's eyes."

Irina blushed. She hadn't realized anyone had noticed her steal that potion. Luckily it was him and not one of the city guards.

"I don't have any lock picks on me," she said.

He produced a basic set of picks from his pocket and pressed them into her hand. "Are you ready?" he asked, close to her ear.

Irina took a deep breath and nodded on the exhale.

"Then get going, lass. Show me what you're made of." He went back to his stall and began calling the attention of everyone in the market to listen to his sales pitch. People began wandering over, even the other merchants from their stalls.

Irina drew another deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. It had been a long time since she had done anything like this. She hoped she wasn't too rusty. She had never been very good at pickpocketing. That would be her greatest challenge. But first she had to get the ring.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

"Gather around, all!" Brynjolf called again. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the lass wander casually over to Madesi's booth. She leaned back against the wall that bordered the marketplace and crossed her arms over her chest like a skeptical observer to his show.

"Come on, Brynjolf, what is it this time?" Brand-Shei said, standing impatiently before him.

"Patience, Brand-Shei. This is a rare opportunity, and I wouldn't want you to get left out."

Brand-Shei huffed and then sat down on a crate as everyone else continued to gather.

Madesi stopped in front of Brynjolf and looked at him with one of his green reptilian eyes. "That's what you said about the Wisp Essence, and it turned out to be crushed nirnroot mixed with water!"

Brynjolf glanced over at Irina again. The lass was nowhere in sight. He hoped she was crouched behind Madesi's booth, picking the lock on the strongbox. He looked back at the Argonian and gave him a winning smile. "That was a simple misunderstanding," he said. "But this item is the real thing." Everyone had gathered by now, so Brynjolf had to keep their attention on him while the lass did her work. He just hoped that she was quick; he wouldn't be able to sustain this distraction for very long.

"Lads and lasses, I give you, Falmerblood Elixir!"

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Irina closed the lockbox after removing the silver ring. There was also at least fifty gold septims in the box, and Irina had removed those as well before she had given it a second thought.

_Maybe I'm not as rusty at this I thought I would be,_ she mused.

Now to find Brand-Shei.

Using the well house in the center of the market as cover, she worked her away around to the crowd gathered in front of Brynjolf's booth.

"Oh come on," Brand-Shei's voice said. "Are you talking about the Snow Elves?"

There he was, sitting on a crate beside the booth next to Brynjolf's, all his attention on the conman. Irina moved carefully through the crowd, her gaze fixed on Brynjolf, as if she was very interested in what he had to say. She sidled up to Brand-Shei, standing next to and slightly behind him. He paid her no mind, as there were people all around.

"The one and only," Brynjolf said, catching Irina's eye for a split second. "Mystical beings who live in legends and were masters of great magic. Imagine the power that coursed through their veins!"

Irina fingered the ring in her sweaty hand, her heart beating rapidly. This was difficult enough by itself, but to have Brynjolf's critical eye on her the whole time was nerve-wracking.

"How did you get that then?" Madesi asked. "No one's seen them in years."

Irina looked down at Brand-Shei, and noticed his pants pocket was gaping slightly because of his sitting position. All she had to do was drop the ring in there and it would be done. But what if he felt it? What if he caught her? She'd spend time in jail for sure. And then what would Brynjolf think of her? Not that his opinion of her really mattered. At least it shouldn't. But for some reason it did. She wanted to prove herself to him, and this was the only chance she had.

"My sources must remain a secret for their own protection," Brynjolf was saying. "But I can promise that the contents are genuine."

Irina glanced up at him again, and he arched his eyebrow at her, telling her to get on with it. She took a deep breath and moved her hand over Brand-Shei's pocket, then dropped the ring into it.

She didn't move a muscle as she waited to see his reaction.

But there was no reaction. He hadn't even noticed!

Irina let out a slow, relieved breathed and took a couple steps back.

"This is a waste of time, Brynjolf," Madesi said with a wave of his hand. "I'm not listening to any more of your tall tales." He turned to go back to his booth, and that seemed to be the cue for everyone else to lose interest as well.

The crowd began to break up, and Irina's hands were trembling when she realized she had almost not made it in time. Brand-Shei stood up and walked past her without a glance as he headed back to his booth. Irina looked at Brynjolf and he jerked his head, motioning her over.

"Looks like I chose the right person for the job," he said once she joined him. He passed her a bulging coin purse. "Here you go…your payment, just as I promised."

Irina smiled, relieved that he was satisfied with her work. She put the coin purse in her pocket. "To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure I could do it," she admitted. "I've never been very good at pickpocketing."

"To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure it would work either," he admitted. "The way things have been going around here, it's a relief that our plan went off without a hitch."

"Oh? What's been going on?" Irina asked, glad he hadn't told her that before the job.

He waved in a dismissive gesture. "My organization's been having a run of bad luck, but I suppose that's just how it goes. But never mind that, you obviously have a bit of good luck on your side. You did the job, and you did it well."

Irina blushed lightly. "Thank you," she said.

He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her with emerald eyes. "Best of all, there's more where that came from…if you think you can handle it."

Irina hesitated, glancing away from his unrelenting gaze. The idea of doing more work like that was very tempting. The excitement and the adrenaline fueled her, making her crave more. The same way she felt when she was hunting a bear; that ever-present danger of being caught was a challenge demanding to be faced.

"Do you think you can handle it, lass?" Brynjolf asked again, drawing her attention back to him.

She looked up at him and her gaze flicked to the long knife scar that marred his left cheek. Somehow it did not detract from his good looks. She smiled slightly. "I can handle it," she said.

One corner of his mouth turned up in a pleased smile. "All right then. Let's put that to the test. The group I represent has its home in the Ratway beneath Riften. A tavern called the Ragged Flagon."

Irina arched an eyebrow. "The Ragged Flagon? Cute."

"We think so," Brynjolf said. "If you can get there in one piece, we'll see if you've really got what it takes."

"In one piece? What, is there some sort of gauntlet I have to go through?"

Brynjolf chuckled lightly. "You might say that." He began packing up his bottles of elixir.

"But you're not going to tell me what it is?" Irina said.

"What sort of test would it be, lass, if you already knew the answers?" He picked up the full crate. "I'll hope to see you down there." With that he walked away, heading to the Bee and Barb.

Irina wiped a hand across her face and glanced around. The market continued on with its usual business, unaware of the underhanded scheme that had unfolded moments ago. But already the repercussions of it could be felt. Madesi must have noticed his ring missing, and must have already had an idea of who took it, for a city guard stopped at Brand-Shei's stall and began to question him about the ring, demanding he turn out his pockets. Knowing himself to be innocent, he complied willingly, and was shocked to find the missing ring in his possession. His repeated claims of innocence went unheard as the guard placed him under arrest and led him away toward the keep.

Irina felt a small twinge of remorse on behalf of the poor Dunmer, but she quickly stuffed it down. Thieving and remorse could not go hand in hand. As difficult as it was, she was good at it. She had half a lifetime's worth of experience already, and if it weren't for a strange twist of fate a couple months ago, she would still be living that life. It was pulling her back in now, and she was very willing to yield to its grasp.

Lydia would throw a fit, but she didn't really care what Lydia thought. They weren't friends, not really. Lydia was an assigned bodyguard that Irina really had no choice in accepting. What's more, Lydia would never fit into the lifestyle that Irina was used to living. She had a strong feeling that Lydia's days in her service were numbered.

But she didn't have to think about that right now. Right now she needed to find out how to get access to this Ratway, and then find the Ragged Flagon. But first she had to check in with Lydia before the woman came looking for her.

She went back into the Bee and Barb, and as she made her way to her room she glanced around for Brynjolf, but he was nowhere in sight, even though she had just seen him come in here a moment ago. She supposed there was no chance now of following him to the Ragged Flagon, not that he would have let her do that. She had a feeling that if he didn't want to be followed then there was no way she would be able to follow him. She knew there was more to Brynjolf than first glance could tell.

He talked to her about sizing up her mark and how to read people. Well, she already knew a thing or two about that. When he first approached her dressed in that fancy coat and tunic, she could tell it wasn't his usual garb. The way he moved in it, the way he sat…she was sure he was more used to wearing leather armor than anything else.

She could tell he was a leader by the confidence he displayed. He also had a tremendous amount of patience and probably a boiling temper that were always at war with each other, though, since she didn't know him well enough, she wasn't sure which one usually won that battle. She hoped it was the patient side.

Irina opened the door to her room in the inn, and Lydia stood up when she entered.

"You're back. Did you get the job?"

Irina tossed the coin purse onto the table. "Got it and finished it," she said. "It was a quick task, easy enough. He's offered me more work."

"What kind of work?" Lydia asked skeptically. "Were you right? Was it illegal?"

"I was right," Irina admitted as she sat down at the table and began counting out the coins. She could sense a protest coming, so she headed it off. "Lydia, before I met you that's the life I had. I did that sort of thing frequently."

"But you weren't a thane then," Lydia argued. "Your life has changed."

"I didn't ask for the change. Maybe I didn't even want it. What is a thane anyway? What does that even mean?" She shook her head. "That man Brynjolf, he's the kind of person I can identify with. He's the kind of person I'm drawn to."

"Are you saying I'm not?" Lydia asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Irina sighed. "Lydia, it's been great having you at my side these last two months. I know you always have my back, and I can put all my trust in you."

"I'm sworn to serve you," Lydia said. "No matter what."

Irina nodded. "That's right. But you know that we rarely speak the same language you and I. We come from very different backgrounds and have very different morals. I'm glad I can count you as a friend, but my life is still my own, and I need to you to be able to understand and respect that. I have to do what I think is right for me."

Lydia blew a breath out through her nose. "Of course I will do as you say, my Thane. I will try to refrain from making further comments."

Irina shook her head. "You're free to speak your mind, Lydia, always. Just know that I will not feel obligated to heed your advice."

"All right," Lydia said, clearly not happy, but choosing not to argue about it further. "What now?"

"Well, I've got about a hundred and fifty gold now. That will pay for several nights here, plus meals. I need to buy some more arrows; I wasn't able to recover any of my spent ones from the bandit raid. I need to do that before I go into the Ratway."

"Ratway?"

"It's what the tunnels under the city are called. That man Brynjolf keeps his operation headquartered down there. I'm supposed to meet him there to get more work. Finding the place is sort of a test I think."

"Do you anticipate trouble along the way?"

"Of course. I always anticipate trouble, so I like to be prepared for anything. Come on, let's go do some shopping."


	4. Initiation

**Chapter Four**

**Initiation**

Through various sources around town, Irina was able to find out exactly where the entrance to the Ratway was located, and she and Lydia set out in search of the Ragged Flagon.

The Ratway seemed to be partly a sewer, partly old storage rooms that had been out of use for untold years, and partly an old prison. The place was a maze of dark, damp tunnels and chambers, and it seemed like around every corner some lowlife waited to rob them of all they were worth. This was where the riffraff of the city lived. Those dregs of human society that weren't fit to walk the streets in broad daylight.

After twenty minutes or so Irina could see how coming this way was a test indeed. She was hard pressed to keep her head on her shoulders, and was positive that Brynjolf never came this way. He probably had another entrance to the Ragged Flagon that was much safer. She hoped he let her use it next time.

The two of them paused to take a breather after defeating a burly man who had charged them from a dark doorway. Irina crouched, not wanting to actually sit on the slimy floor, and took a long drink from her water flask.

"Is any amount of coin worth all this?" Lydia asked. "There are easier jobs to get in this city, I'm sure of it."

"Maybe so," Irina allowed. "But they wouldn't be as exciting."

Lydia grunted. "Your idea of excitement and mine are definitely not one and the same."

Irina flashed her a grin and hooked her water flask back on her belt. She pointed to two different doorways that led from the room. "Which way should we go?"

"Depends," Lydia said, standing up. "Which one isn't locked?"

Irina stood up also and walked to the nearest door and tried the latch, while Lydia tried the other one. They both opened.

Irina chuckled. "Well, now what?" She peeked beyond the door to see yet another dark corridor leading down even deeper under the city. Then she went over to see what was beyond Lydia's. It was a short, wide corridor with torches burning in sconces on the wall. At the end it opened up into a huge chamber dominated by a wide, shallow pool of water that reflected torches and lanterns on the far side.

"Let's go this way; it looks a hundred times more interesting," Irina said.

"And possibly a hundred times more deadly if there are unfriendly people in there," Lydia cautioned.

"I'm not opposed to running if we get outnumbered," Irina said as she made her way forward, gripping her bow in her hand.

They walked cautiously out into the chamber and to the edge of the pool. From there they could see some sort of dock built over the water on the far side, and people moving about. Irina exchanged a glance with Lydia, and they slowly worked their way around the pool to the right. Then they came upon a wooden sign post that looked like it belonged in front of a reputable business on the street.

_Ragged Flagon_, it said.

"Well, I guess we're here," Irina said softly. She continued forward into an area that was well furnished with tables, chairs, and even a bar with a barkeep. Crates and barrels were stacked all around, creating walls that enclosed the entire establishment from the rest of the chamber. To the left a large deck was built out over the pool and there were even tables on that.

Several people sat at the tables with drinks, engaged in idle talk. No one seem to notice the two newcomers, or if they did they made no sign. At the bar, several men were talking a little louder than the rest. Irina hung back a bit, listening to their conversation. One of the men had red hair, but his back was to her and he was wearing leather armor instead of a fancy tunic, so she wasn't positive it was Brynjolf. But a moment later one of the man's companions confirmed that it was indeed him.

"Give it up, Brynjolf," the barkeep was saying with a chuckle. "Those days are over."

"I'm telling you," Brynjolf insisted in that distinctive voice of his. "This one is different…"

The man at the bar next to him made a dismissive gesture. "We've all heard that one before, Bryn. Quit kidding yourself."

Irina walked forward a bit more, and she could see the rest of the people in the tavern, and they could see her. A short, slender blonde woman leaning against a stack of crates with her arms crossed was giving her the evil eye. Irina felt her skin prickle slightly under the scrutiny.

"It's time to face the truth, old friend," the barkeeper said to Brynjolf. "You, Vex, Mercer…you're all part of a dying breed. Things are changing."

"A dying breed, eh?" Brynjolf said. He looked over his shoulder and glanced at Irina, as if he had known she was there all along. "What do you call that then?" He turned fully around and leaned his elbow against the bar as he faced her, grinning. "Well, well… color me impressed, lass. I wasn't certain I'd ever see you again."

"Getting here was a bit of a challenge," Irina admitted. "But nothing I couldn't handle." She glanced around, acutely aware that every eye in the tavern was on her. She felt her cheeks flush red and was glad for the dim lighting in the place.

Brynjolf's eyes sparkled and his grin broadened. "Reliable _and_ headstrong? You're turning out to be quite the prize."

She arched her eyebrows at that compliment. "Well, I'm glad you think so." She glanced around at the Ragged Flagon. "Quite the place you have here. Almost looks like a real tavern."

"It _is_ a real tavern," the barkeep said defensively as he wiped the bar with a rag.

Brynjolf gestured. "That's Vekel. He's the man here in the Flagon. Best not to mess with him."

"Damn right," Vekel agreed. He seemed to be in his late twenties and was actually quite good looking. He would probably look even better with a smile, but that didn't seem likely to happen.

Brynjolf gestured to the man at the bar next to him. "This is Dirge, and the blonde over there is Vex."

Irina ignored the blonde who had given her the evil eye before, and focussed instead on Dirge, also blond, with long mutton chops, a large nose and a scowl that was probably permanent.

"How'd you get a name like Dirge?" she asked him.

His scowl deepened. "Because I'm the last thing you hear before they put you in the ground," he said gruffly. "You got a problem with my name?"

Irina shook her head quickly. "No, no problem at all."

Brynjolf smiled slightly. "Dirge is the bouncer here at the Flagon. Best not give him any trouble either."

"Is there anyone here who's actually friendly?" Irina asked, glancing at the blonde woman who was still judging her from across the room.

Brynjolf gestured to himself with both hands. "Well, _I'm_ here." He chuckled and then waved it away. "Most of us are pretty friendly. But you can meet the others later. Right now let's get down to business. Have a seat." He gestured to an empty table near the bar.

Irina sat down, while Lydia stood at the edge of the room close to her, keeping a sharp eye on the others in the room.

"So…now that I've whetted your appetite with our little scheme at the market, how about handling a few deadbeats for me?" Brynjolf said.

"Deadbeats?" Irina said. "What'd they do?"

Brynjolf leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "They owe our organization some serious coin, and they've decided not to pay. I want you to explain to them the error of their ways."

"So who are these people?" Irina asked.

"Merchants in town," Brynjolf said. "Specifically, Keerava at the Bee and Barb, Bersi Honey-Hand who owns the Pawned Prawn, and Haelga who runs the Bunkhouse."

"All right," Irina said, forcing herself not to glance at Lydia. "And how would you like me to handle them?" She hoped this didn't involve roughing people up. She was too soft-hearted for that kind of thing.

Brynjolf sighed. "Honestly, the debt is secondary here. What's more important is that you get the message across that we aren't to be ignored." He furrowed his brows at her slightly. "A word of warning though. I don't want any of them killed. Bad for business."

Irina held back her sigh of relief. "Understood."

He regarded her for a moment, his gaze appraising. "Do this right, lass, and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization."

Irina blinked at that, not completely surprised, since she had a feeling it might lead to that, but still, it sounded nice. A place where she could belong, to be a part of something bigger than herself. She hadn't had something like that in an untold number of years. She was tired of being lonely.

"Do you have any questions, lass?"

Irina shook her head. "No. Consider it done."

"Good. I'll be here waiting. Now get going."

Irina got up from the table and glanced around. "How do I get out of this place?"

Brynjolf arched an eyebrow at her. "The same way you came in, lass."

"Right…" Irina nodded slowly, not believing him. But she had to accept his word for now. She motioned to Lydia to follow her as she made her way back around the pool to the Ratway.

"My Thane, I don't think you should be getting involved with these people," Lydia said once she caught up with Irina.

"I told you to stop calling me that," Irina said with a sigh. "This is a great opportunity for me, Lydia. I have to see where it goes."

"But it's the _Thieves Guild._" Lydia said earnestly. "They're criminals."

"And so am I," Irina said, raising her voice slightly. "I've been a criminal for almost as long as I can remember. It's what I know, it's what I'm comfortable with, it's what I'm skilled in."

"But that doesn't mean you have to stay that forever," Lydia pressed. "You can make something new with your life. Do something good."

"Like what?" Irina demanded. "There's nothing else, Lydia. Nothing as clear as this anyway."

Lydia was silent for a moment before saying, "What about the Graybeards?"

Irina snorted. "What about them? They couldn't help me. They had no direction for me, no purpose. Just a bunch of religious jabber that isn't even practical unless I join their monastery—which I'm not going to do." She shook her head. "No, this here is real, Lydia." She gestured to the stone tunnels as they walked. "_This_ is something I understand and can embrace."

Lydia sighed and hung her head. "As you will, my Thane," she said softly.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Brynjolf watched the women leave the Flagon, his eyes only on Irina. That one was a mystery to him. As much as he could deduce certain things just by observing her, there was so much he didn't know. Brynjolf hated mysteries, and loved them all the same. Hated them because he didn't like being in the dark about things. Loved them because the process of discovery was almost always exciting, plus, if he could solve the mystery then it brought him into the know, and that's exactly where he wanted to be.

Someone sat down in the chair across the table from him and his gaze shifted to see Delvin Mallory, his best friend and partner in crime. Delvin's soft brown eyes studied him for a moment in silence.

"What?" Brynjolf finally said.

Delvin shrugged. "So you think she's worth our time?" he asked in his usual quiet voice. "Seems a bit unseasoned to me."

"Oh she's seasoned," Brynjolf said. "I'm pretty sure about that. Exactly how seasoned, though, we'll find out soon enough."

"So you think she's the answer to all our problems then?"

Brynjolf chuckled. "I don't know about that. But there's something different about her. I can't quite place my finger on it, but it's there, and I aim to find out what it is. She's got her own brand of luck, though, and I'm hoping she can bottle some of it for the rest of us."

Delvin smirked. "I could use a good bottle of luck about now."

"Aye," Brynjolf agreed.

"What do you suppose Mercer will say?

"About the lass?" Brynjolf shrugged. "I'm sure he'll trust my judgement."

"Well, for all our sakes, Bryn, I hope you're right about her and we don't end up regretting this."

"So do I, Delvin. So do I."

Brynjolf wasn't sure how long it would take Irina to finish the job he gave her. It depended on how long she waited before actually starting the job, and how receptive the targets were. He waited at the table in the Flagon for a couple hours, and then finally decided to leave; he had other things to do besides wait around for someone who may very well change her mind and never return.

And return she did not. Not for the rest of the day. Brynjolf couldn't help but feel a weight of disappointment settle on him as he removed his leather armor before getting into bed. It shouldn't have taken her all day. Had he been wrong about the lass? He didn't want to believe it, and he decided to keep giving her the benefit of the doubt for a while longer. But for now he was tired of waiting and he had to get some sleep.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Brynjolf awoke sometime later from someone lightly shaking his shoulder.

"Bryn, wake up," Delvin's soft voice murmured. "She's back."

Brynjolf sat up immediately and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "The lass is back? Where is she?"

"She's waiting for you in the Flagon."

"What time is it?" Brynjolf asked as he slipped into his leather cuirass and fastened the straps.

"'Bout six in the morning," Delvin said. "She walked in a couple minutes ago."

Brynjolf pulled his boots on and stood up. "Did she do the jobs?"

"Word on the street says she's made quite an impression. Didn't even have to bash any heads together. She's got honey on her tongue, she does. Says she brought all the gold owed us, too."

Brynjolf grinned as he made his way to the Flagon. "What did I tell you, Delvin?"

He opened the door to the tavern and spotted Irina and her friend sitting at a table. She stood up when she saw him enter and held up a coin purse.

He motioned for her to sit back down, and then joined her at the table, glancing briefly at her friend who gave him a judgmental glare. He ignored the woman and turned his attention back to Irina."So, job's done then?" he said. "And you even brought the gold."

She nodded and handed the pouch to him. "Here's everything they owed us."

He smiled at how she included herself among them. "Well done," he said, hefting the pouch, testing its weight. It felt like it was all there. He tossed the pouch to Delvin, and then pulled a smaller one from his pocket. "It would seem I owe you something in return," he said, and handed her the payment he had counted out earlier.

She tucked it into her own pocket with barely a glance. Either she didn't care about the coin, or she trusted him to give her a fair cut. He wasn't sure either of those were good explanations, but he let it slide.

"You did a good job, lass," he said, to which she looked very relieved. "Best of all you did it clean. I like that. Dumpling bodies and keeping the guards quiet can be expensive."

"Killing isn't my thing," she said. "Not if I don't have to."

He nodded once. "Good. Then you might just fit in around here."

"So…what now?" Irina asked, fiddling nervously with the handle of an empty mug that sat on the table.

"Well, judging from how well you handled those shopkeepers, I'd say you've done more than simply prove yourself. We need people like you in our outfit. That is if you're interested in making this more permanent."

She glanced hesitantly at her friend, who gave her a glare before looking away. Obviously something wasn't right between the two, but Brynjolf didn't care what it was. Her personal relationships were none of his business, and he hoped she would keep it that way.

She finally looked back at him and gave him a tight smile. "Permanent sounds perfect."

"Glad to hear it, lass. Now, if you have no questions, how about following me, and I'll show you what we're all about." He stood up and the two ladies followed suit. He held up a hand to stop them. "I'm sorry, but your friend has to stay here," he said.

The friend scowled at him and then looked at Irina. "My Thane, I have to protest. I don't think you should go somewhere where I can't follow you."

Irina rested her hand lightly on her friend's arm. "It'll be all right, Lydia. Just wait here for me. I'll come get you as soon as I can."

Lydia was more than unhappy about the situation, but she didn't argue, and sat back down, arms folded tightly across her chest in silent protest.

"All right then, follow me," Brynjolf said.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Irina followed the thief into a narrow tunnel that exited from the back of the tavern. His broad shoulders obscured most of the view ahead, but Irina could see a door at the end. But just before reaching it he turned to his right and opened the doors of a tall wardrobe set against the side of the tunnel. It was empty, and Brynjolf pushed on the back panel and it swung away, revealing a secret passage. He stepped through, and smiling, Irina followed.

They turned left and went down another long tunnel, at the end of which was another door. This time Brynjolf opened the door and stepped through into a wide chamber with a domed ceiling, similar to the one that housed the Flagon, complete with its own pool of water. Though this pool had four arching stone bridges over it that all met in the center.

All around the edges of the circular chamber were beds, tables, chairs, dressers, anything and everything that made up a comfy home. Several people loitered about, doing this and that. All of them were dressed in leather armor similar to Brynjolf's. Not only was this the Thieves Guild headquarters, but it appeared to be where they all lived as well.

Irina followed Brynjolf to the spot where the four bridges met over the middle of the pool, which she guessed must be some sort of cistern, judging by a couple streams of cascading water from drain pipes in the ceiling.

Another man walked forward from the other side of the room to meet them on the bridge. Brynjolf glanced over his shoulder at Irina. "That's Mercer Frey, our Guild Master," he said softly. "Best not to say anything unless he asks you a direct question."

The much shorter man gave Brynjolf a skeptical quint of his eyes as they reached him.

"Mercer, this is the one I was telling you about," Brynjolf said. "The new recruit."

Mercer's critical blue eyes raked across Irina, from her face to her feet and back again. He did not smile or even look halfway pleasant, nor did he greet her. He looked at Brynjolf again. "This better not be another waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf," he said, his tone bored.

"Just trust me on this one," Brynjolf assured.

Mercer turned to look at Irina again, finally meeting her eyes and acknowledging that she was actually a person. "Before we continue I want to make one thing perfectly clear," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "You play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you'll lose your share. No debates, no discussions. Do what we say, when we say." He narrowed his eyes at her, and when she didn't respond immediately he raised his voice slightly. "Do I make myself clear?"

Irina swallowed and nodded. "Crystal clear."

"Good." He crossed his arms over his chest and continued to study her, his face stuck in a permanent frown. "Then I think it's time we put your expertise to the test."

Irina glanced quickly at Brynjolf. Another test? She had already gone through two, how many more did there have to be?

Brynjolf frowned at Mercer. "Wait a moment. You're not talking about Goldenglow, are you? Even our little Vex couldn't get in."

Mercer sighed and gestured vaguely at Brynjolf. "You claim this recruit possesses an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it."

Irina glanced from one man to the other, feeling a nervous knot form in her stomach. If Brynjolf was concerned about her ability to do this "Goldenglow" job, then she felt she should be concerned as well, since he had had pretty high faith in her up until now.

Mercer looked back at her and explained the situation. "Goldenglow estate is critically important to one of our largest clients. However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson." He turned to walk away. "Brynjolf will provide you with the details.

"Mercer," Brynjolf said in a chiding tone.

"Hm?" Mercer grunted and looked back.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh yeah…" Mercer mumbled and then let out an exasperated sigh and turned to face Irina again. "Since Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but an asset to us, then you're in." His nose crinkled in a slight sneer. "Welcome to the Thieves Guild." With that, he turned and walked away to a desk on the other side of the room.

Irina let out a tense breath and looked at Brynjolf. He gave her a wide smile. "Welcome to the family, lass."

"Thanks, I guess," Irina said. "Haven't felt very welcome yet."

"Don't mind Mercer; he's like that with everyone. But you will sill have to prove yourself, even to me."

"But haven't I already proven myself?" Irina asked. "Isn't that what those tests were for?"

Brynjolf arched an eyebrow at her. "I'm expecting you to make us a lot of coin, lass. Frequently." His expression hardened slightly. "So don't disappoint me."

"And how do I get my cut?" Irina asked, feeling her hackles raise slightly. Was no one in this place going to give her a break? She just got here for Divines sake!

"Simple," Brynjolf said. "Do as you're told and keep your blade clean. We can't turn a profit by killing. If you have any questions or need extra jobs, talk to Delvin Mallory or Vex. You won't see a lot of me around here; I'm usually pretty busy." He looked around for a moment and then caught the eye of a man leaning against the far wall. He motioned for the man to come over.

"This is Rune. He'll tell you what's what around here."

The man called Rune gave Irina a pleasant smile. "Hi, how are you?" he said.

"I'll let you settle in," Brynjolf said to Irina. "Come find me when you're ready to start that Goldenglow job." With that he walked away, leaving Irina on the bridge with this new stranger.

At least he looked friendly. He held out his hand to her. "Name's Rune," he said. "You must be Irina."

She shook his hand. "I guess everyone here has probably heard of me by now."

"Pretty much," Rune said. "They're all itching to meet you. But for now I'll show you around."

He motioned for her to follow him and he led her off the bridge back the way she and Brynjolf had come. He stopped beside a bed that was situated between the door to the Flagon and a waterfall cascading from the ceiling. A dresser sat at the head of the bed and a large chest at the foot.

"This will be yours, for whenever you're in town. You can use the drawers and the chest for your personal stuff."

Irina frowned as she stared down at the bed, and then around at all the other beds in plain sight. "Not very private," she said with more than a hint of displeasure.

Rune shrugged. "I guess you just get used it after a while. But we're all pretty close here, Not much goes on without everyone else knowing about it anyway."

"But you're not all men, right?" Irina said. "There are women in your ranks?"

He blinked at her with a confused expression. "Yeah, a few."

"And everyone sleeps here in the same room? No one has their own space?"

Rune shook his head. "Not enough rooms down here for everyone to have their own space. Only Mercer, Brynjolf and Delvin get their own rooms, but they're the leaders."

"But so where do I go to change clothes?" Irina asked, starting to feel a little uncomfortable discussing this with a strange man.

"Well, if you don't want to change out here, there's a small storage room just down that corridor there. You could use it if you want."

"Thanks," Irina said flatly.

He regarded her for a moment, but she couldn't read his expression. Then he snapped out of it and continued leading her, making their way around the cistern. He pointed out the various amenities of the place as they passed by. A kitchen, more beds, a dining area, more beds, a small armory with a grindstone for sharpening blades, an office area where Mercer Frey had a desk. The Guild Master gave her a critical stare as she passed by.

Then Rune showed her a ladder that went up to a trapdoor in the ceiling. "If you don't want to fight your way through the Ratway tunnels every time you come here, you can use this entrance. It opens in a false crypt behind the temple of Mara."

Irina smiled. "I thought this place must have a better entrance than the Ratway. Somehow I couldn't see Brynjolf fighting his way through that every day in his fancy street clothes."

Rune chuckled. "Don't underestimate Brynjolf. That's a bad idea and a half. But don't worry, you can use the secret entrance now whenever you want. Just don't be bringing all your friends and their uncles down here. It's not a secret entrance if everyone knows about it."

"Right," Irina said with a slight smirk.

He glanced at her leather armor. "I see you haven't got your uniform yet. Follow me." He led her back toward the Ragged Flagon.

"So, Rune," she said as she followed him. "That's an interesting name. Does it mean something?"

"My adopted father named me that," he answered. "He said he found me as a small boy in the wreckage of a ship that sunk off the coast of Solitude. All I had in my pocket was was a tiny, smooth stone inscribed with some sort of strange runes. He started calling me Rune, for lack of any other name. He thought it was fitting I suppose. I never changed it, because it didn't feel right to do so."

"Do you know what the runes on the stone mean?" Irina asked, intrigued.

He shook his head. "No one does. I've even taken it to the College of Winterhold. I must have spent every last coin I've made with the Guild trying to find out what it means." He sighed. "Of course, it could just be nonsense, inane scribbles done by someone in idle boredom. But if not…"

"They could be a clue about where you came from," Irina said.

He nodded. "Exactly."

"You look Imperial," Irina offered.

"So I've been told. But was I born in Cyrodiil? Who can say?

"I can imagine how important it would be for you to find out. I'll keep an eye out for any leads if you like."

He glanced over his shoulder at her with a sight smile. "I appreciate that." Then he cleared his throat. "Here we are in the Flagon. Tonilia!" he called.

A tiny Redguard woman stood up from a table out on the deck, and Rune led the way over to her. They passed by Lydia's table, and Irina motioned for her to stay seated and wait a little longer.

"This is Irina, the new recruit," Rune said to the Redgaurd woman.

She placed her hands on her hips and regarded Irina with just as much scrutiny as everyone else had. "Right. Well it looks like you and I will have to get very well acquainted," she said, her tone all business.

Irina frowned slightly. "Why is that?"

"I'm the fence down here," Tonilia explained. "You come by anything you don't exactly own and I'll pay you some coin for it—minus a little slice for the Guild, of course. I can also provide a few supplies useful to our trade now and again, for a small fee."

Irina arched an eyebrow. "Is there anything you _don't_ charge for?"

Tonilia crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. "Sure, how about I get Dirge to knock you over the head and throw you into the cistern."

Irina held up her hands in surrender. "Fine."

"Look," Tonilia said gruffly, "I've been in this business a long time, and I've seen all types. You can play it tough, or you can play it smart, whatever. At the end of the day you'll find that all we care about down here is how much gold you can make us."

"I get it," Irina said defensively.

"Good," Tonilia said. "Then there isn't much more to say."

Rune cleared his throat. "Uh, she'll need some armor."

Tonilia sniffed and then went over to a stack of crates on the deck and began to rummage through them. Every once in a while she glanced up at Irina with a measuring expression, probably trying to determine her clothing size. Finally she pulled out several pieces of lightweight leather armor; a cuirass, pants, boots, gloves and hood.

"Here, these should fit you," Tonilia said, handing them over. "Just make sure you put it to good use." Without another word she turned and walked away.

Irina glanced at Rune. "I suppose I should get changed then. Where's that storage room you mentioned?"

He smiled softly and motioned for her to follow him.

Irina tried to swallow past the lump that had been forming in her throat ever since arriving here and meeting Mercer and the others. She wasn't receiving a very warm welcome. In fact, most of them seemed down right hostile, while at the same time claiming to be a close-knit family. Irina's emotions were starting to feel a little raw from all the verbal abuse she wasn't used to.

"Don't pay any attention to Tonilia," Rune said, glancing at her over his shoulder. He had such a soft, gentle-sounding voice that was a huge contrast to Tonilia's overbearing one. "She's tough with all the new recruits, but if you respect her she'll eventually soften up."

"How can I respect her if she doesn't respect me?" Irina asked.

Rune shrugged, unable to answer that. "But don't believe what she said about gold being all we care about. It's not true."

"Really? I was starting to wonder," Irina admitted. "All I've seen so far is a bunch of rough characters talking about gold—other than you anyway."

They reached a closed doorway in one of the tunnels and Rune stopped next to it and turned to face her, wearing a slight smile. "We all come from different backgrounds that have shaped us into who we are today. Some ended up more rough around the edges than others. And we're all here for different reasons. Some are here for profit alone. Others, like me, are here for a place to belong." He opened the door, revealing a small room with barrels and crates lining the wall. "Why are you here, Irina?"

The question caught her off guard for a moment. "I…guess its a little of both. I need the coin, but I really just want a place to belong."

He nodded in understanding. "You have no family?"

Irina looked down at her feet and shook her head. "No. They died, a long time ago."

"Same with mine," he said. "So I've found these people, and they've become my new family. And despite what Tonilia said, we care about each other like family. You'll soon learn that."

Irina swallowed and then smiled at Rune. "Thank you," she said softly.

He returned the smile and then gestured to the storage room. "Here you go."

Irina closed herself in, feeling relief from the four walls around her, cocooning her in total privacy. It would take some getting used to living in the cistern. She had a feeling this storage room and her would become best friends.

After a moment she removed her leather armor that she had worn for the last couple months since arriving in Whiterun. It had served her well, for it was very well made. But, as she donned the light brown Thieves Guild armor she could tell it was better, and she liked the style better, too. It fit her well and was actually comfortable. It seemed more like pants and a coat than actual armor, and she felt like she could relax in it.

So she was one of them now. She didn't feel like one of them. She still felt very much like an outsider. She hoped the rest of them were more like Rune; welcoming and kind. She liked Rune and thought she would enjoy getting to know him better. She liked Brynjolf too, but he was a little harder to figure out. He could be kind one moment and stern the next. Maybe it had something to do with him being in charge and needing to exert his authority. He intimidated her, though, and relaxed her at the same time, if that even made sense. But she wanted to prove herself to him, more than anything. Having his disapproval seemed like something she wouldn't be able to bear. She didn't know why that was, it just was. She hoped she would not disappoint.

She drew a deep breath and then sighed it out, preparing herself for the rest of the day and whatever it might bring. She opened the door of the storage room to find Rune gone. She stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. Well, she needed to give Lydia an update and then send her back to the inn. No sense making her wait in the Flagon all day. Lydia was not going to be happy, but Irina needed to think about herself right now. She needed to focus on making a new life of purpose and fulfillment. She needed to belong.

—

**A/N:** Please read and review. I'd love to hear how I'm doing with my first Skyrim fan fic! :)


	5. Kindred Spirits

**Chapter Five**

**Kindred Spirits**

Irina was right, Lydia protested earnestly about returning to the inn without her. In the end, however, she had to do what Irina wanted, regardless of her own feelings.

Once Lydia was on her way back to the surface, Irina returned to the Cistern to track down Brynjolf. She felt a little uncomfortable just hanging around there with nothing to do, so it would be a relief to start her new job, but she still needed the details.

She found Brynjolf sitting at the dining table with the small blonde woman who had glared at her so much the day before. As she approached she could hear their conversation.

"How are you feeling, Vex?" Brynjolf asked.

The woman sniffed and shook her head as she set her mug down. "Pretty angry, actually. I can't _believe_ I screwed up that Goldenglow job. It should have been like stealing a sweet roll from a baby."

Brynjolf glanced at her. "Well, I see your wounds have healed, but your pride still needs some time."

She opened her mouth to either agree with him or protest, when she noticed Irina standing a short distance away watching them. Vex narrowed her eyes and practically scowled.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

Brynjolf looked up and smiled. "Ah, there you are, lass. I see you got your armor. It fits you well, too."

"It's pretty comfortable, for armor," Irina said, holding her arms out and admiring her sleeves.

"So, are you ready to start your next job, lass?" Brynjolf asked.

"Yes, I just need to know the details."

Brynjolf gestured for her to sit down at the table across from him. "So, Goldenglow Estate is a bee farm," he said, and wrinkled his nose. "They raise the wretched little things for honey. It's owned by some smart-mouthed Wood Elf named Aringoth. What we need you to do is teach him a lesson by destroying three of his beehives, and clearing out the safe in the main house."

"Earlier you made this sound like a tough job, but this sounds easy. What's the catch?"

Across from her Vex snorted but said nothing.

"The catch is you can't burn the whole place to the ground," Brynjolf said. "That important client Mercer mentioned would be furious if you did."

Irina nodded. "I see. So am I supposed to do anything about Aringoth?"

Brynjolf shook his head. "Maven prefers he remain alive. But if he tries to stop you from getting the job done, kill him."

Irina frowned at that, but didn't comment. "So who is Maven now?"

Brynjolf arched an eyebrow at her in surprise. "You don't know who Maven Black-Briar is?"

Irina shook her head. "Should I have?"

"She owns Black-Briar Meadery, probably the best and most successful brewery in all of Skyrim. She's the most influential person in this city, even more so than the Jarl, and is definitely the richest. Plus, she's our most important client. We do jobs for her on a regular basis, and in return she supports and protects the guild. She's got the Riften City Guard in her pocket, and has bailed out our Guild members a few times in the past—not by paying bounties, but by using her substantial influence. She's not someone you'd like to cross."

"Oh, I see. So this Aringoth crossed her, and now she wants him taught a lesson."

"Exactly," Brynjolf said with a nod. "Goldenglow estate brought in a mountain of gold for the Guild. You could almost call it our sweetest deal," he joked.

Irina chuckled and Vex rolled her eyes.

"But then out of the clear blue Aringoth stopped sending us our cut," Brynjollf continued. "Mercer was…well, angry, to put it kindly. So we send in Vex, and find out he's hired a bunch of mercenaries to guard the place and fortified the entire island." He glanced at the woman beside him and lowered his voice a little. "Vex barely made it out alive."

Vex returned his glance in acknowledgment of his concern for her.

"He had more than tripled the guard," she said. "There must have been eight of them in there. It was like he was daring us to come get him."

"So then how do I get into this place?" Irina asked.

Vex sighed softly. "Well, there's an old sewer tunnel that dumps into the lake on the north-west side of the island. That's how I slipped in there. Should still be unguarded. Other than that, you're on your own, since that's the only part of that mission that went right for me." She snorted and shook her head with disgust at herself.

"Well, this is sounding better and better," Irina said sarcastically.

Brynjolf furrowed his brow at her. "The Guild has a lot riding on this, lass. Don't make me look foolish by mucking it up."

She returned his look. "Trust me, I don't want me getting caught any more than you do."

"Be sure to take something with you to start a fire," Brynjolf said. "Those beehives are built like small fortresses. The only way you'll be able to destroy them is to burn them."

"And take a lot of lock picks with you," Vex added. "The lock on that safe if a tough one. I broke five picks before I was discovered."

"Thanks for the tip. Where is the safe, by the way?"

"It's in the lowest part of the basement. Guards patrol every level of the house. It took me two hours to sneak by them all. You should especially watch the one in the basement. He's the one who caught me." She shook her head. "If I couldn't do it, I don't know how you'll manage."

Brynjolf rested his hand lightly on Vex's. "Don't discourage her, Vex. She'll need confidence to do this."

"Just being realistic," Vex muttered.

"I guess I should probably wait until dark," Irina decided, trying valiantly to keep up her courage and determination. This was her first official job for the Guild and they were giving her the hardest one possible.

"Probably a good idea," Brynjolf agreed. "Best get a meal before you leave. Who knows how long you might be stuck over there, wouldn't want you to go hungry."

"Right. Sounds good, actually," Irina said. She stood up. "I'll see you when I get back from Goldenglow."

Brynjolf looked up at her. "All eyes are on you, lass. Don't screw this up."

Irina let out a defeated-sounding breath. Did he think that was an encouraging remark? She left them and went back to the Ragged Flagon, since she noticed that they served food there as well as drinks. She went over to the bar where Vekel the Man was wiping out a mug with a rag. He stared at her appraisingly as she took a seat on a barstool.

"So you're Brynjolf's new protege now," he said, setting the mug down and bracing his hands on the bar as he studied her. After a moment he sniffed and shook his head as he picked up the mug again and resumed his cleaning of it. "Don't look like much to me," he muttered.

Irina sighed in irritation. "Sorry to disappoint. Can I get some food?"

"What do you want?"

She shrugged. "Whatever's ready."

He turned away to get her meal, and Irina deliberately kept her shoulders hunched and face forward, not wanting to talk to anyone there, or see them staring at her. After a few minutes Vekel set a plate in front of her that contained a bowl of apple cabbage stew, a small loaf of bread and a thick slice of cheese. It actually looked pretty good.

"You want anything to drink with that?" Vekel asked.

"Sure, whatever you think is good," Irina said. She wasn't a big drinker and had no idea what to order.

Vekel set a clean tankard on the counter, then brought out a bottle of some kind of wine and poured her some. "Should go all right with the stew," he announced.

"Thank you," Irina said. But instead of sitting at the bar so he could watch her eat, she picked up the plate and the mug and searched for a secluded table.

Tonilia sat at one with a bald man Irina hadn't met yet, and Dirge sat by himself at another. All the remaining tables were in perfect line of sight to the others. So Irina wandered out onto the deck where there were two tables, one unoccupied. At the other one sat Rune, who smiled when he saw her.

"My sister in crime," he said cheerfully. "What can I do for you?"

Irina gave him a relieved smile and set her plate on his table in front of the empty chair. "Provide me with some company that's not going to judge my every move?"

He chuckled and gestured to the empty chair. "Shouldn't be too difficult a job."

Irina returned his smile gratefully and sat down. "So how long have you been a member of the Thieves Guild, Rune?"

He scrunched his face slightly as he tried to recall. "Oh, close to fifteen years now."

Irina arched her eyebrows in surprise. "That long? You don't look that old."

He laughed. "I'm not. I was only a kid when I joined. Seventeen."

"And did you have to prove yourself like I do?"

"Oh sure, but for me it was worse because I had no prior experience."

"What made you want to join a thieves guild if you weren't even a thief already?" Irina asked curiously as she stirred her soup and tested its temperature. Too hot. She munched on some cheese instead.

"Free room and board if I did what they wanted," he answered with a shrug.

"But if you had no skills then why would they even consider you?"

"It was Brynjolf who convinced Mercer to let me in. He found me freezing on the streets of Windhelm and took pity on me."

"You had no home? But what about your adopted father?"

"He had recently died in a boating accident just off the coast of Windhelm. That's how I ended up in that city. When not out on our boat fishing we lived in a shack on the coast near Solitude. But I had no way of returning there with only the clothes on my back. And even if I did go back, then what? I'd still be destitute. Brynjolf introduced me to a life I'd never once considered living. But it was better than freezing to death on the street. He taught me everything I know, and I've since made a name for myself here."

"So you weren't already a hardened criminal before joining the Guild. No wonder you're the nicest person here."

He laughed at that, and Irina thought she saw a blush creep across his cheeks. "I don't know about that, but thanks for the compliment."

Irina returned his smile and then took a few tentative sips of her soup. She realized he was watching her and she arched her eyebrow at him. "What?"

He shrugged slightly. "You just don't seem like a hardened criminal either, yet you obviously have experience or they wouldn't have given you the Goldenglow job. Vex is a master at infiltration, but even she couldn't get in without getting caught."

"I don't know what to tell you. I hope Brynjolf isn't expecting too much from me."

"Why did you become a thief?" Rune asked.

Irina stared down into her bowl as she stirred her soup absently. "Much the same reason you did," she said softly. "Out of necessity." She glanced up at him. "My parents died when I was sixteen, and I did what I had to in order to survive. I've been alone ever since."

"You've been alone?" Rune said in surprise. "You never joined anyone? Never had training from a master?"

Irina shook her head. "Not a master thief, no. But my father was a skinner, and he taught me everything he knew. I was hunting deer with him as soon as I was old enough to draw a bow. That's how I became a good sneak. I spent the first half of my life learning how to be invisible to the ever-watchful gaze of the deer and the sharp ears of the wolf. Sneaking up on people is a piece of cake in comparison."

"I suppose it would be," Rune agreed. "So, where did you live before you came here, then?"

Irina shrugged. "Anywhere I could lay my head really. I've never owned a house. I've lived in every inn in Skyrim at one time or another, or stayed in people's homes if invited. I've camped under the stars more than anything though."

"So you've been wandering Skyrim since you were sixteen?"

She nodded. "Pretty much." She took a few bites of her stew in silence and then glanced up at him. He was still watching her. "But you know…I feel done with that life," she admitted, and then laugh mirthlessly. "I'm tired. I want to stay somewhere. I want a home. I want someone at my back once in a while, you know?"

Rune gave her a soft smile. "I understand." He pointed to himself and then to her and back. "You and me aren't so different. We share similar events in our past. We came here for similar reasons. I think we have more in common than anyone else here."

Irina returned his smile. "You remind me of my older brother," she admitted. "He would have been about your age now if he hadn't…well, let's just say my parents weren't the only ones I lost."

"I'm sorry," Rune said, his amber eyes glancing away uncomfortably.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Irina said. "I didn't mean to embarrass you, or to bore you with my life story. Seriously, you're the first person I've ever really told any of this to."

"I am? How come?"

She shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe because I've never really had a friend since then? Maybe because I'm tired of keeping it to myself."

"Hey, if you ever need to talk about anything…" Rune grinned as he spread his arms in a gesture of openness and welcome. "I don't think listening to you is boring."

Irina chuckled. "Well, thank the Divines for that. And thank you, Rune, that's sweet of you." She sighed and pushed her plate away. "Well, I suppose I should start getting ready to go. See you when I get back?"

He nodded once. "I'll be here. And hey, be careful out there. Those mercenaries don't take prisoners."

—

**A/N:** A big thank you to those of you who have read and reviewed! I love hearing your comments. Please continue telling me what I'm doing right and what I could be doing better. You guys inspire me to keep writing. If you have any questions or ideas for the story, please PM me. I hope you're all enjoying how it's going so far, and I'll see you in the next chapter!


	6. Infiltration

**Chapter Six**

**Infiltration**

Goldenglow Estate dominated a cluster of small islands in the middle of Lake Honrich, easily viewable from Riften's docks. A stone bridge carried travelers to and from the island, but Irina figured it would be a bad idea for her to use it. As she and Lydia crouched in the brush near the end of the bridge, she could just make out the forms of several guards patrolling in the dusky fog of the evening; one actually on the bridge, and at least two more in sight on the other side.

"I'm going to have to swim," Irina realized with distaste. She was not a very strong swimmer and avoided it whenever possible.

"That's a long way to swim," Lydia remarked. "Are you sure?"

Irina shrugged. "It doesn't look like I have much choice. Unless…" She considered for a moment and then moved carefully down to the water's edge beside the bridge. She studied the water, still hesitant to actually get into it. "It looks to be pretty shallow much of the way out. I might not need to swim if I stick close to the bridge."

"You'll still get completely soaked," Lydia said. "So what's the difference?"

"I can't swim, all right?" Irina said as she began to unbuckle the straps of her leather armor. "At least not well enough to make it all the way across there. Hopefully this idea of mine will work."

"And what about me?" Lydia asked.

"I'd like you to stay here and wait for me," Irina said.

"But this is when you need me at your back the most," Lydia protested.

"I know. But I need to get in and out of there without anyone seeing me. Let's face it, Lydia, you're not a very good sneak."

Lydia didn't argue that point because there was no denying it.

"Wait here, or somewhere else where you have a good vantage point, and watch the island. If you see any activity that might indicate they've discovered me, you'll know what to do. If you see smoke, that will be me burning those beehives, and I'll be hightailing it out of there as soon as I do."

As she talked she removed all her leather armor, wearing only a thin undershirt and pants. She tightly rolled her leather and stuffed it in a sack with another set of underclothes.

"As you wish, my Thane," Lydia said reluctantly, but she had no tone for arguing. She seemed to have accepted the way things were going to be, and Irina was grateful.

"I don't know how long this will take," Irina admitted. "Vex told me it took her two hours just to get to the basement where the safe is. So I'll be gone a while. Don't worry about me until it starts getting light out, all right?"

"Good luck," Lydia said with a nod.

Irina took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. Then she put the pack on her shoulder and began wading out into the lake. The water was ice cold and she had to clench her teeth hard to keep from gasping too loudly. She hugged the side of the bridge stonework, and as soon as she was able she moved under the bridge out of sight.

The water rose to her waist and she had to stop and close her eyes for a moment to battle the chill. She finally just let herself sink up to her neck in the water, holding her sack up over her head. She crouched there for a few moments, breathing deeply through her clenched teeth, letting her body adjust to the fridged temperature. Once she had recovered, she stood up straight and moved forward again.

The water never came up any higher than her armpits by the time she reached the other side. She had passed right under the guard on the bridge, and he never knew she was there. However, this sewer tunnel that Vex mentioned was on the other side of the island. She would have to work her way around, staying crouched in the water with only her head showing. It was completely dark by now, and thus very difficult to see anything on the surface of the lake. At least Irina hoped that was the case.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Brynjolf twiddled his thumbs nervously and then scratched the back of his head. He stood up from where he had been sitting on his bed and wandered out into the Cistern. He slowly paced the edge of the pool, head bowed in thought, unaware that several sets of curious eyes were on him as he walked. He made a complete circuit and started another one without realizing it.

His mind was out on Lake Honrich with Irina. The lass had been a little hesitant to do the job, he could tell. But she was also eager to prove herself. She wasn't one to let fear get the better of her. But there was a fine line between bravery and foolishness, and he hoped she knew where that line was.

The more Brynjolf paced the edge of the cistern the more agitated he became. What was he thinking sending an untested recruit into that lion's den? True, it hadn't been his idea, and if he could have convinced Mercer to change his mind he would have. But you don't argue with Mercer, that was a fact. Still, he began to realize more and more that this was a bad idea. He wasn't even sure the lass was good at infiltration, and if Vex couldn't do it…

He shook his head as memories flashed before his mind's eye, and the stopped abruptly when he nearly ran headlong into someone. He snapped his head up to see Delvin standing there, one eyebrow arched in question.

"What are you doing, Bryn?"

Brynjolf sighed and raked his fingers through his long hair. "Trying to keep my wits about me, that's what."

Delvin hooked his arm around Brynjolf's neck and began leading him toward a table on the far side of the room. Brynjolf had to bend over slightly, as Delvin was considerably shorter than him.

"Delvin, what are you doing?" he demanded, trying halfheartedly to extricate himself from the headlock.

They reached the table and Delvin slammed a bottle of wine down onto it and then released his hold on his friend. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to the bench. "You need to relax."

Brynjolf sighed but obliged. He sat down and rested his elbows heavily on the table while Delvin poured wine into two mugs, then sat down across from him.

Delvin held up his mug in a toast. "To her success," he said.

Brynjolf picked up his mug with a soft sigh. "Aye, I'll drink to that," he said, and then took a long swig from his mug, feeling it rush to his head almost immediately. This was the extra strong stuff they saved for special occasions or extreme bouts of sorrow-drowning.

"You ain't usually this agitated about a job," Delvin remarked.

"I'm usually more sure of its outcome," Brynjolf admitted. "And after what happened to Vex…" He shook his head and took another sip of his wine. "I can't get that image out of my mind; her stumbling in here, bleeding like she was."

"But Vex is all right, Bryn. And that ain't Vex out there now."

"You're right, it's not. So maybe I have even more reason to worry about her. Vex is the best. This new lass…she doesn't have a chance, does she?"

"Maybe she does, maybe she don't. But you thought she was worth something when you recruited her."

"I knew she was a good thief," Brynjolf said. "But I don't know if she can handle herself in a fight if it comes to that. She's an archer. Archery's no good in close quarters."

"Well, I noticed she had a sword on her too," Delvin said. "Maybe she's more skilled than you think."

Brynjolf swallowed more wine, starting to feel its effects as his muscles began to relax and a gentle fog began to cover over his thoughts and worries. He would wait up all night for the lass to return, even if he was dead drunk by then.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Irina finally made it around to the other side of the island and found the entrance to the sewer. She met with no resistance as she crept her way through, other than a few skeevers. But a few quickly nocked arrows took care of that problem. While in the sewer she took the opportunity to change back into her leather armor and dry underclothes so she wouldn't get chilled.

The sewer tunnel brought her to a vent that opened very near the back door to the main house. She had crossed underneath the entire yard and past several guards without them knowing.

She had to pick the lock on the door, but it wasn't a difficult one. She managed to do it without breaking any picks. The house was huge. Many rooms filled with fancy furniture and expensive decor. Guards were posted throughout, but only a couple actually patrolled the halls. Irina cut through rooms, doubled back, hid behind walls or doors, crept as silently as she possibly could down halls and around corners to stay out of their sight.

She came to a corner of the hall where it turned to the right. Directly across from her was a staircase leading down, protected by a locked iron door. That had to be the stairs to the basement. She had to pick that lock in order to proceed, but there was a slight complication. A guard patrolled the hall. When she peeked around the corner she saw him at the far end, and she ducked back just as he turned around to head her way. She quickly hid in the nearest room, listening from the behind the door to his footsteps. They clomped down the entire length of the hall and paused in front of the iron door for a moment, before turning around and heading back the way he had come.

Irina took a slow, steadying breath and left her hiding place. She peeked around the corner again and saw the guard's back as he made his way to the other end of the hall. Once he reached it she knew he would turn around and see her if didn't hurry.

She tiptoed across the hall and crouched beside the iron door. She whipped out her lock picks and got to work, keeping one eye on the guard the whole time. This lock was a little more difficult, and she broke one of her picks after a couple tries. The guard was almost to the end of the hall, so she hurriedly darted back into the room to hide. And just in time too. The guard turned around, and Irina could hear his boots on the wood floor as he headed her way again.

While she hid she took the opportunity to even out her breathing. Taking long, slow breaths and letting them out just as slowly. It helped to calm her heart rate and keep her hands from shaking. She had learned the technique while stalking bears as a young girl. The only way she could kill a bear with a bow and not get mauled to death was to shoot from a hidden vantage point as quickly as possible so the bear would never see her. But bears are smart and very hard to sneak up on. And she couldn't aim effectively if her limbs were trembling beyond control. Learning to control her bodily reactions to how she felt was essential to being a good sneak.

She heard the guard turn around and head back down the hall, so she once again crept out of her hiding place and resumed her work on the lock. This time she was successful in getting it open. She carefully swung the door open, only far enough to slip through, and then she closed it behind her and ducked into the stairwell just as the guard turned to face her again. But she was no longer in sight.

She entered the basement and saw three guards standing around a fireplace on the far side of the room, partially obscured by crates and dusty pieces of furniture. It was not difficult to sneak past them to a door that led to an even lower level. Vex said the safe was in the lowest point of the basement, so she wasn't going to bother searching these other rooms at the risk of getting caught.

At the bottom of these stairs was another hallway that stretched out before her. At the end of it was a small room with a couple doors leading out the far side. A guard sat in a chair facing those doors, his back slightly to Irina. She stopped at the end of the hall and watch him for a moment. He was leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting against his knees, a mug in his hands that he was currently staring into. It looked like the door she needed to go through was the one directly across from him. There was no way she'd be able to sneak past him. Absolutely no way. This was the guard Vex had warned her about, and now she could see why.

Irina crouched, leaning her back against the wall to rest for a moment as she considered her options.

She had none.

None that would preserve her cover anyway.

The only way she would be able to get by this guard was to kill him. It didn't look too difficult to sneak up behind him with a knife. But she swore she would never again commit a murder, and she wasn't about to go back on her word for the contents of a safe.

Maybe she could cause a distraction somehow, long enough to slip by. No, he would look for her, and chances where high that he would find her. Not to mention he'd alert the other guards, and then how would she get back out? Maybe she could just hit him over the head hard enough to knock him out. That seemed to be her only option at the moment.

So she carefully drew her sword, and then left the safety of the wall and slowly, and ever so quietly, snuck up behind the guard. She positioned herself, raising her arm above the guard's head. She had never done anything like this before, and wasn't even sure where she should hit him to be most effective. Well, there was nothing for it at this point. She had to do something.

Taking a deep breath, she slammed the pommel of her sword as hard as she could into the back of the man's head. He lurched forward with a loud grunt and toppled to the floor.

Irina stood there staring at him, shocked that it had worked. But then the man groaned and rolled over, looking up at her. An angry scowl replaced his look of pain and bewilderment and he scrambled to his feet.

She hadn't hit him hard enough, or not in the right place. Now she would pay the price. He drew a battle axe from his belt and took a swing at her.

"You people think you can try this again?" he demanded.

Irina quickstepped out of his reach, bringing her sword up to block. He swung again and she blocked again. She seriously needed to get in some more practice with her blade; she was getting rusty using only her bow all the time.

She ducked a wide swing of his axe, feeling the gust of wind it made brush her hair. While he was off balance, Irina finally got her own swing in, nicking the man's elbow. He roared with rage and redoubled his attack with repetitive swings of his axe, which Irina was hard pressed to block. She backed way from him, making a circuit of the room. But then one of his swings got past her block and struck her in the side.

All the air left her body in a loud grunt as she flew backward, a stabbing pain shooting through her body. She crashed against the wall, and immediately her survival instincts kicked in and she forced her head to clear, though it did so slowly. She saw the guard advancing on her, eager to finish her off. An open door gaped beside her left elbow, stairs leading down.

She stumbled down them, holding her sword up in a feeble attempt to protect herself. The shooting pain in her side continued, and now it was spreading up into her shoulder, and tingling jolts traveled down her arm and into her fingers. She had no idea the extent of her injuries, but whatever they were, it was rapidly rendering her useless.

The guard pursued her down the stairs into a small room that appeared to be the end of the line. A door made from iron bars closed off a small passage way, but when Irina went down it she found it to be a dead end. She slammed the iron door closed just as the guard reached it. He tried shoving it open, but Irina used her foot to kick it back in his face. He growled and shoved at the door again, and again she kicked it back. Then she leaned all her weight against it. The guard tried grabbing her through the bars and Irina kicked at the door again. It was a desperate struggle to survive one more moment, to take one more breath, in a vain hope that there would be another moment and another breath after that. She felt no more pain, only the wild desperation.

The guard reached his arm through the bars in an attempt to strangle her, but she grabbed that arm and yanked it backwards with all her strength. The man screamed in rage and pain, but Irina silenced him by running her blade straight up under his ribcage. He gagged and sputtered for a moment and then his body went limp and Irina let him fall to the floor.

She stood there a moment, panting and sweating, and then her vision blurred and she let herself sink to the floor, leaning against the wall. She looked down at her side and saw the leather armor had been sliced through. She pried it apart with her fingers and was relieved to see the wound beneath didn't look too bad. But the pain was almost unbearable, especially when she moved. She guessed she might have a broken rib. She had had one before in the past, and this felt very similar.

She couldn't dwell on herself right now, though. She had a mission to complete, and the sooner she did that the sooner she could rest and recover. She groaned softly as she pulled herself to her feet, clenching her teeth against the pain that stabbed across her chest. She realized then that she was in the room that had been her goal all along; the one that contained the safe. There is was, sitting on the floor against the oposite wall.

Irina opened the iron door and walked carefully to the safe. It hurt like dragon's fire to crouch in front of the thing, but she had to in order to pick the lock. She took out her lock picks and got to work, but her hands were trembling so badly that she had a hard time making her fingers do what she wanted. She practiced her breathing exercises, but they did little to calm her body this time. She broke a pick and hurriedly replaced it, only to break that one, too. An involuntary whimper escaped her lips as a couple tears of pain and desperation trailed down her cheeks. She broke pick after pick on the stupid lock, until she had only two left.

"Talos…guide me," she breathed, closing her eyes for a moment, willing her numbed mind to cooperate. After a moment she tired again, and this time she felt the lock disengage with a soft _click_. She pulled the safe door open and peered inside.

It contained a small bag of gold and a folded piece of parchment. Irina frowned. That was it? After all she went through to get there, that's all that was in the safe? She groaned softly, but took the items anyway, since she was told to take everything. Then she glanced around, taking a better look at the room she was in. The passage behind the iron door was not a dead end like she had at first thought. At least it technically wasn't. She noticed a trapdoor in the floor, barely wide enough to admit a person. It was probably used to dump waste into the sewer, but to Irina it was the way out.

It was not easy squeezing through the hole in her condition, let alone dropping to the tunnel floor below. She cried out in pain and braced herself against the tunnel wall for a moment to wait for the dizziness to clear. Then she made her way out of the sewers back the way she had come. She still had to burn the beehives. The job wouldn't be complete if she skipped it in favor of getting medical attention, and she was not about to return to Brynjolf until the whole job was done. He was counting on her, and she had the respect of a lot of people to gain, not to mention her reputation and even position in the Guild could be at stake. No, she would finish this. Even if she had to crawl on hands and knees to do so.

It was still dark by the time Irina made it back to the surface, though she couldn't tell exactly what time it was, as the stars were obscured by thick clouds. She didn't bother to remove her armor first before slipping into the lake. The icy cold water felt good on her aching side, and she found it easier and less painful to move through the water than on land. The beehives were located on an adjacent island to the main house, so she had to work her way around along the shore.

It took her the better part of an hour, moving slowly, painfully, but finally she could hear the buzzing of the bees. The only problem was that this end of the island jutted up high above the lake, with a steep, rocky embankment down to the water. To approach from the lower end of the island would mean facing an untold number of guards, and Irina was in no condition to attempt such a thing. But how in Shor's name was she going to climb these rocks?

Very, very carefully.

In the darkness, with the moons obscured by clouds, it was difficult to see where she was going. But after twenty minutes or so she managed to pick her way to the top of the embankment, then she worked her way around a log wall that was likely to built to shield the beehives from wind gusts off the lake. She paused at the end of the wall and peeked around. She could see a few guards carrying torches on the other side of a field near some buildings. From that distance in the darkness there was no way they'd be able to see her.

She crept around the wall and made her way to the beehives, which were like small round huts on stilts with thatched roofs. The buzzing sounds from the hives was loud, but luckily the bees were all inside their nests, resting until daylight. Irina did not fancy getting a dozen bee stings on top of her other injuries.

She took out a flint and steel and small candle from the pouch on her belt. She set the candle on the ground and struck the flint several times before the sparks finally caught on the wick. Then she used the flame of the candle to light the thatch on three of the beehives. The little huts went up like tinder, creating a roaring fire and a thick column of smoke very quickly. Shouts went up from across the field and Irina hurried back around the log wall and gingerly made her way back down the rocks until she reached the water. She was very grateful for the cover of darkness as she made her way silently around the edge of the island and back to the shallow place under the bridge. She had made it. She hoped it was all worth it.

—

**A/N:** Hope you all enjoyed that chapter. I hate writing actions scenes, so this one was a real challenge to write, but I felt it was necessary for me to include it. Let me know how you liked it! Next chapter will be Irina returning to the Cistern, coming soon. Probably next weekend. See you then!


	7. Recuperation

**Chapter Seven**

**Recuperation **

Brynjolf was just beginning to nod off in his chair when he heard the familiar sound of stone scraping against stone as someone opened the secret entrance to the Cistern. He sat up straight and looked around. The Cistern was quiet; everyone had long since gone to bed. Everyone but Vex, that is. He could see her sitting on her bed, her blonde head bent over a book. Brynjolf took out his pocket watch and checked the time. Half past two in the morning. Vex always had been a night owl.

Brynjolf worried about Irina. It had been hours since she left; she should have been back by now.

Just then the hatch to the secret entrance opened and someone began coming down the ladder. A few grunts of pain alerted Brynjolf that all was not well. He stood up from his chair just as the person fell from the ladder and crashed to the floor. Brynjolf was at Irina's side in seconds and carefully rolled her over. Her leather armor was soaking wet and her face deathly pale.

"Lass, what happened?" he said, his brow creasing with worry. "Vex, get over here, now!"

Irina opened her eyes and looked at him, but she didn't respond at first. Brynjolf felt Vex come along side him, and it was she who noticed the blood on Irina's side.

"She's hurt," Vex said.

"Let's get her to her bed," Brynjolf ordered. "Run and get the kit, and a lantern." Vex left to carry out his orders and Brynjolf gently took Irina into his arms. She moaned softly in pain when he moved her, but she didn't protest beyond that. He carried her quickly to her bed and laid her down. While he waited for Vex to return, he began unbuckling the straps of her armor so he could get a better look at her injuries.

"Lass, what happened?" he asked her again.

"Not quick enough on my feet," Irina muttered, attempting a smile.

Just then the door to the Flagon burst open and Vekel rushed in. "Hey, Brynjolf word just came in that…" he paused when he noticed something was going on. "What happened?"

"She had a bit of a tangle," Brynjolf answered. He managed to get Irina's cuirass off, and he pulled her under shirt up far enough to see the slice in her flesh. Dark bruising had already begun to form across her rib cage. "Lass, are any of your ribs broken?" he asked her.

She nodded. "I think so."

"Brynjolf," Vekel said again. "Word just came in…Goldenglow's been hit. Big fire blazing out on the island."

Brynjolf arched his eyebrows in surprise at Irina. "You did it, lass? The job's done?"

Vex returned in that moment and set a lantern on the nightstand beside Irina's bed. Then she began taking a closer look at the wound.

Irina's hand fumbled with the pouch on her belt, trying to get it open. Brynjolf took over for her, pulling out a purse of coins and a damp piece of parchment. "What's this?" he asked.

"The contents of the safe," she answered.

Vex looked up sharply and frowned, then exchanged a bewildered look with Brynjolf. "That's all that was in it?" he asked Irina. She nodded. Brynjolf mirrored Vex's frown as he unfolded to parchment and read the letter inside. "It's a bill of sale," he realized after a moment. "Aringoth sold Goldenglow? What was that idiot thinking? He has no idea the extent of Maven's fury when she gets cut out of a deal. But I'm certain he'll find out." He examined the letter, noticing that there was no buyer's name on it anywhere, just an odd symbol that looked like a sword over a black circle. "Any idea what this symbol might be?" he asked Irina.

She glanced at the paper and shook her head. "No, I've never seen it before."

"Blast," Brynjolf muttered, and then he sighed. "I'll check my sources and talk to Mercer. Hopefully something will turn up. How is she doing, Vex?"

"She's got a broken rib, but she might avoid stitches if she can stay in bed for a day at least. Nothing that can't be fixed."

Brynjolf let out a breath of relief and gave Irina a smile. "You did good, lass. You got the job done and you made it back in one piece, more or less."

"What now?" Irina asked.

Brynjolf chuckled lightly. "Now you rest and get well again. Don't worry about a thing until I tell you otherwise, all right?"

She nodded. "Sounds good."

Brynjolf stood up, making room for Vex to do her work. As he turned away from the bed, he saw Rune leaning up on one elbow in his bed nearby.

"Brynjolf, is she going to be all right?" he asked, worry evident in his tone.

"Rest easy, lad, she'll be fine," Brynjolf assured. "She just needs a day or two, and she'll be back on her feet in no time."

Rune looked relieved to hear that, but he didn't relax, continuing to lean on his elbow as he watched Vex tend to Irina. Brynjolf had noticed that Rune seemed to be taken with the lass. Instead of feeling glad about that and happy for Rune, Brynjolf felt his chest constrict at the thought. He swallowed hard and shook his head as he walked to his room. What a strange feeling to get over something like that.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Irina watched Brynjolf walk away, and then she closed her eyes for a moment while Vex cleaned the wound in her side. The blonde thief pressed a little too hard, and Irina winced, sucking air through her teeth.

"Owe," she said and opened her eyes to see Vex glaring down at her.

"I want to make two things perfectly clear to you," Vex said, her tone not to be trifled with. "One: I'm the best infiltrator this rat hole of a guild's got. So if you think you're here to replace me, you're dead wrong. And two: you follow my lead and do exactly as I say. No questions, no excuses. Do we understand each other?"

Irina returned the glare, though hers was not as intense. "I understand you just fine," she said. "But I don't think you understand me. I'm not here to replace you."

"Good, then there shouldn't be any problems in the future, am I right?" Vex said.

"That's right," Irina said flatly. Of all the people in this place, why did Vex have to be her nurse? She closed her eyes again and turned her head away, deciding that further conversation wouldn't be any more cheerful. Vex was one to be avoided, other than for necessary business.

Irina glanced to the side and noticed Rune propped up on his bed, watching her with a worried expression. She gave him her best smile, which he immediately returned, looking more reassured.

As soon as Vex was finished cleaning the wound, applying a healing potion and a bandage, Irina was left alone, to her great relief. All she wanted to do was enter the blissful realm of sleep and forget about everything for a while, and that's exactly what she did.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

When Irina's eyes fluttered open the next day, the sun was shining through the large vent in the ceiling of the Cistern, casting a beam of light through the dust and water droplets in the air. Irina raised her hand up to block the glare, but changed her mind instantly when she felt a pulling ache in her side. She lowered her arm with a soft groan.

"Hey, good to see you awake," a familiar voice said close by.

Irina glanced to the side and saw Rune sitting on his bed facing her, his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked.

"It's a couple hours after noon," Rune answered.

"Oh, that late?" Irina tried leaning up on her elbows and groaned again.

Rune sat up straight and scooted to the edge of his bed. "I don't think you should be getting up just yet. You need at least a full day of bed rest."

"Right, I get that," Irina agreed. "But I have other needs, too."

"I can bring you anything you need if you're hungry or thirsty. What would you like?" He stood up and came closer to her bed.

Irina smiled slightly. "That's sweet of you, Rune. But what I really need at the moment you can't help me with, I'm afraid. Unless you can point me in the direction of the latrine."

He blushed instantly and glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, right, of course. It's just down there."

"Thanks," Irina said. "But I'll still take you up on those other offers. Whatever you bring me I'll be grateful for."

Rune grinned and then headed toward the kitchen.

In the privacy of the tiny closet that was the latrine, Irina examined her injuries. A lot of linen was wrapped around her torso and she didn't want to mess it up, but she could see that the gash from that guard's axe must have been pretty long if the size of the bandage covering it was any indication. She lightly pressed her fingers against her side and sucked air through her teeth in a wince of pain. That was a bad idea.

After she was finished in the latrine, Irina gladly returned to her bed and got into it carefully, propping her pillow against the wall so she could sit up. She sat there for a few minutes alone, curiously observing the goings on in the Thieves Guild headquarters. Several people were gathered in the kitchen area, talking, laughing and even arguing. The muffled voices of a couple different conversations floated to Irina's ears, but she could not make out the words. On the other side of the Cistern she could see a man practicing his archery on a sack dummy. Irina watched him intently for a moment. Across the distance it was too difficult to tell his accuracy, but she was quite impressed by his form and fluid movements as he drew each arrow, nocked it to the bow, pulled the string and released. Irina could tell a master archer when she saw one. She had to make a point of meeting him. Perhaps he wouldn't mind giving her a few tips; she was always eager to improve her own skill.

Presently someone close at hand passed before her vision, and she refocused her eyes on Brynjolf, who sat down on the edge of her bed.

"Good afternoon, lass," he said. "Feeling rested?"

"More or less," Irina said with a nod.

"Well, I've come to check on you, to see if we should send for a mage," he informed, and abruptly pulled back her blanket a bit so he could lift her shirt and check her bandaging.

Irina flinched and grabbed his hand as a tingle of apprehension ran through her. He glanced up and met her eyes, one eyebrow arched slightly.

"Sorry, lass, do you mind?" he said. Without waiting for her answer, he pulled his hand from her grip and resumed his task.

This time she let him, watching closely as his nimble fingers confidently unpeeled her bandaging. His brow creased slightly as he examined the wound in her side, the reddened edges of flesh already beginning to knit back together. Goosebumps rose on her arms at the light touch of his fingertips brushing across her bruised ribs.

She let out a slow, steadying breath. "You seem to know what you're doing, I'll give you that."

A faint smile touched his lips, but he didn't glance away from his task. "In this line of work I learned long ago how to be my own healer. Most of us here have." He finally looked up and met her eyes. "Well, what do you think, lass? Should I call the mage, or would you rather tough it out on your own?"

The thought of spending days in bed did not appeal to her, and she almost told him to send for the mage. Would he then think her weak? Would he think her a little child unable to cope with a bit of pain? She wanted to impress him, to show him that he had made the right choice in recruiting her. She didn't want to disappoint him. So she shook her head with all the confidence she could muster.

"No, I'm sure a mage isn't necessary; I'll be just fine soon enough."

His brow furrowed slightly upon hearing that, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Are you sure?" he asked.

She only nodded in reply.

"All right then." He replaced the bandage with a fresh one, and then she leaned forward slightly so he could rewrap the linen around her. "Would you like anything to eat or drink?" he asked her once he was finished.

"Rune's bringing me something, actually," she answered.

"He seems rather taken with you," Brynjolf observed as he glanced toward the kitchen.

Irina smiled. "He's a sweetheart. He's done a lot to help me feel more at home here. He told me you mentored him, taught him everything he knows."

Brynjolf nodded. "Aye. The only thing the lad new how to do was toss a fishing net over the side of a boat."

"He said you rescued him from the streets. I'm curious; the Thieves Guild doesn't strike me as a charitable organization."

He blew a sputtering breath between his lips. "Trust me, we're not."

"Then why help him?"

"I'm not heartless, lass," was all he said in answer.

"I…didn't mean to imply that you were," Irina said. "Sorry."

He waved it away. "Truthfully, I helped Rune because he reminded me of myself once upon a time."

"Someone took you off the streets?"

Brynjolf nodded. "Our late Guild Master, Gallus. He gave me a second chance at life. When I saw Rune almost frozen to death on the street in Windhelm, it just seemed like the right thing to do."

She gave him an admiring smile. "Not heartless at all," she agreed. "So, where is this Gallus, what happened to him?"

"He died, a long time ago." He sighed softly and glanced around at the Cistern. "This place really hasn't been the same since then. He was the best, Gallus was."

Just then Rune returned with a bowl of porridge, an apple, and a mug of hot coffee. He set them down on the nightstand beside Irina's bed. "You're in luck, it was Brynjolf's turn to cook this morning," he said.

"Oh? Is Brynjolf a good cook?" Irina asked.

Brynjolf shook his head in silent disagreement.

"One of the better ones here," Rune insisted. "Yes you are, Bryn. Better than Vipir."

Brynjolf chuckled. "_Everyone_ is a better cook than Vipir. When it's his turn to cook I usually eat at the Flagon."

"Which one is Vipir?" Irina asked. "I haven't met him yet."

Rune pointed to a brown-haired Nord wearing a sleeveless version of the Thieves Guild armor. "That's him there. I think he really wants to meet you."

"Oh? Why's that?" Irina asked.

Brynjolf chuckled deep in his chest.

"He fancies himself a ladies man," Rune said. "He's had his eye on you since you walked in here."

"Oh really?" Irina said with a smile, staring across the Cistern at Vipir. "He's not half bad looking, I suppose." She looked back at Brynjolf to see a slight frown on his face, but he quickly wiped it away. "What?" she asked him.

He shook his head, offered her a smile and then stood up. "Eat your breakfast, lass. We'll talk again later." With that he turned and made his way to the other side of the Cistern.

"What was that about?" Irina asked.

Rune just shrugged in reply.

Irina picked up her bowl of porridge and began eating. It really was pretty good, for porridge. "Rune, can I ask you a favor?" she said after a while.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"I know you're not a courier, but I was wondering if you could deliver a message for me."

"If it's local I can. If not, I can find someone else who will."

"Oh it's local," Irina assured. "Just to the Bee and Barb, to my friend Lydia. She's probably worrying her teeth out by now. I just want to let her know that I'm all right."

"Of course," Rune said. "I can tell her for you, or I can deliver a letter, whichever you prefer."

"A letter might be best. Do you have something I can write with?"

Rune hurried away and returned a minute later with a quill, ink and parchment. Irina wrote a quick note to Lydia, assuring her that everything was fine and that she would be confined to bed rest for a day or two, and to stay at the inn for now and wait for her. When she was finished, she folded the parchment and handed it to Rune.

"Thank you so much, Rune, I really appreciate this."

He grinned. "No trouble, Irina. I'll deliver this right now." With that he left, using the ladder to the secret entrance.

Only moments later Irina spotted Vipir heading her way, a grin on his face. She smiled back as he approached her bed. "And you must be Vipir," she said.

His eyebrows shot up. "You know who I am?" he asked.

She nodded. "Rune pointed you out to me."

"Oh? What'd he say about me?" Vipir ask with a suspicious tone.

Irina shrugged. "Nothing really. Just that you're a bad cook. Oh wait, that was Brynjolf who said that."

"Did he now?" Vipir said, sending what Irina thought was a mock glare in Brynjolf's direction. "Well, I guess you've been forewarned, then."

"I'll reserve judgment until I've seen for myself," Irina assured.

"Oh, you're an adventurous one, are you?" Vipir said as he sat on the end of her bed, since there were no chairs nearby.

"Usually," Irina allowed. "When it comes to culinary adventuring, I'm usually up for it."

"And what other kinds of adventures do you enjoy?" he asked her, his tone somewhat suggestive.

Irina chuckled drily and shook her head. "I'm sure not the kind you're hoping for."

He sat back a little and spread his hands. "What? I wasn't thinking anything."

"Oh, all right then," Irina said, not believing a word of it, and her tone indicated as much.

"I've been hoping to meet you," Vipir said. "It's not every day that Brynjolf brings home someone he's so enamored with. You must be special indeed."

"Enamored with?" Irina said in surprise.

"He claims you're the best thing for us since old Gallus died. That was before my time, so that's saying a lot."

Irina glance around the Cistern, but Brynjolf was no longer in sight. She laughed uncomfortably. "Well, I don't know about that. I'm just a girl trying to make a living. I have no delusions of grandeur. Brynjolf can think whatever he likes. I just hope he knows how to deal with disappointment."

The words came easily from her mouth, but inside her stomach was twisting in knots. Brynjolf had such high expectations of her? She had already felt pressure to never disappoint him and to do what she could to impress him. Now that burden weighed even more. Maybe she would have to have a talk with Brynjolf. She didn't like being the subject of so much attention and scrutiny. Not just by Brynjolf, but everyone in the Guild.

She got so caught up in her thoughts about it that she didn't realize Vipir was talking.

"…for disappointment."

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said Brynjolf knows what he wants and he usually gets it. He rarely settles for disappointment."

Irina swallowed uncomfortably. "Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see then," she said in an attempt to end the conversation. Then she yawned, at first for show, but then it turned into a real yawn. "I think I'd like to get some more sleep now, if you don't mind. But it was really nice to meet you, Vipir. We'll have to talk again soon."

"You bet," Vipir said, standing up. "Any time. Oh, and welcome to the family."

She gave him an appreciative smile and then scooted down under her blankets and closed her eyes. She really did feel tired. Some sleep would feel good, and to disappear from reality for a while would feel even better.


	8. Unwanted Feelings

**Chapter Eight**

**Unwanted Feelings**

Brynjolf recognized a familiar form walking through the market place. The fancy clothes, black hair and general look of absentmindedness left little doubt. He quickly left his booth and walked up behind her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. She startled and turned her head to look at him, eyes wide.

"Brynjolf," she exclaimed.

"Ingun," he said close to her ear. "Seems to me you're having a bit of a lapse in memory concerning our deal."

She looked confused. "I don't understand."

"The deal was I'd take some of your failed potions off your hands for you as long as none of them were poisonous."

"I didn't forget, Brynjolf."

"Oh? Then you might want to pay closer attention to what you're doing, lass."

She frowned and considered his words for a moment longer than necessary. Brynjolf couldn't fault her, though; Ingun Black-Briar had always been a little slow on the uptake. Too preoccupied with her own projects to notice what was going on around her.

"Did I give you one of my poisons by accident?" she asked.

Brynjolf nodded. "Looks that way."

She covered her mouth with her hand and Brynjolf caught a glimpse of the smile she hid away. "Oh, I hope no one's died," she said, no conviction in her voice. "Did anyone die, Brynjolf?"

Brynjolf smiled past gritted teeth and gave her a light squeeze. "No, lass. Just a very sick customer, but he pulled through, and it's a good thing, too. A death would be very bad for business, if you catch my meaning."

She sighed softly and nodded. "Yes, I suppose it would be. I'm sorry, Brynjolf. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't, lass," Brynjolf said, and then he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her forehead before letting her go. She hurried away and Brynjolf returned to his booth in the market.

Understanding the macabre motivations of that little girl was usually beyond Brynjolf's considerable patience. But she was a pretty skilled alchemist and was helping him make a bit of coin, so he couldn't complain too much. She just had a tendency to be a bit absentminded, and needed little reminders now and then.

A few moments after returning to his stall, Brynjolf was approached by Maul, who handed him a sealed parchment.

"What's this?" he asked, recognizing the Black-Briar seal.

"Maven wants a word with your new recruit," Maul said.

Brynjolf popped the seal on the letter and scanned the text quickly. "It's not every day she requests one of our junior members by name. She must be impressed with Goldenglow."

"Hard to tell," Maul said with a grunt. "Think that if you want to. I got to get going. See you around, Brynjolf." With that he walked away.

Brynjolf considered the note a few moments more, before packing away his elixirs and locking up his stand. Then he headed back to the Cistern to pass on the news to Irina.

He found the lass asleep in her bed. He stood there for a moment, debating whether or not he should wake her. He sat down carefully on the edge of her bed and let his eyes wander across her face, taking in every detail. Her face looked so peaceful in sleep, her brow completely relaxed, no wrinkles of anxiety in the corners of her mouth. Here was a troubled woman escaping for a time a reality that was too big for her.

Brynjolf didn't know what those things were. He didn't know where she came from or what circumstances brought her to him. He didn't know her goals and dreams for life, or the pain and heartache that might have kept her from them. But he had seen that they existed, there in the corners of her mouth. In the soft lines under her eyes. She couldn't be more than twenty-three—twenty-five at the most, yet she seemed to carry the burdens of nations.

Who was this lass who so willingly faced down an estate filled with mercenaries, while never once hiding the fear she felt at doing so? She was so eager to please, so willing to do what it took to find her place in the Guild. Was she just lonely, or did she have a more complex motive?

Brynjolf usually tried to keep his nose out of the private affairs of the more junior Guild members, and he rarely questioned anyone about their past. As long as it didn't interfere with their ability to get a job done or jeopardize the Guild in any way, he didn't care who they were or where they came from.

Yet with Irina it was different; he could feel that nearly from the start. He wanted to know her better—not just in the here and now with business as usual. He found himself wondering about who she was, where she came from. He would never find those things out, of course. He had to maintain a professional distance. But that didn't stop him from wondering all the same.

A soft smile curved his lips when he noticed her freckles again, lightly peppering her nose and cheeks. Involuntarily his hand reached out and gently cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly stroking across her nose. She stirred at the touch and he jerked his hand back, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. What was he doing? What had gotten into him? He had no business touching her like that.

He stood up from the bed and she stirred again. As he turned to leave she spoke his name.

"Brynjolf?"

He stopped and looked back at her. "Sorry to wake you, lass," he said softly. "I'll leave you be."

She shook her head and leaned up on her elbows. "No, it's all right. Did you need something?"

"It can wait until you're feeling more recovered," he decided.

She sighed. "By the Nine, Brynjolf, what is it?"

He relented. "I've just had word from Maven Black-Briar. She wants to see you as soon as possible. She asked for you by name."

A deep frown creased her brow, and Brynjolf could see the flicker of fear pass through her eyes.

"But I thought I did the job like you asked…?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that," he assured her with a soft smile. "You're calling on her for business."

Her frowned deepened. "Well, what could she possibly want with me?"

Brynjolf shrugged one shoulder. "That's between you and Maven, and I prefer you keep it that way." Did he? Did he really prefer that? Normally the answer to that was an easy 'yes'. Now he was no longer sure. What _did_ Maven want with her? Maven never asked to see junior members by name. She dealt only with himself or Mercer in person, choosing to use Maul or Dirge as a go-between most of the time.

Brynjolf grabbed hold of his curiosity and reined it in hard. What Maven did was none of his business. In this case he had to remind himself of that.

He noticed that Irina looked nervous at the prospect of facing the most powerful and dangerous person in Riften. He sat back down on the edge of her bed and rested his hand on her arm as a comforting gesture. "Don't worry about it," he said softly. "Maven's business dealings usually involve quite a lot of gold for her people."

Irina swallowed noticeably and glanced away. "Yeah… all right. When do I meet her?"

"As soon as you're feeling well enough to go for a little walk," Brynjolf said. "She knows you were badly injured, so she's not likely expecting you immediately."

"Maybe I'll feel up to it tomorrow," Irina offered.

"If you think so, lass. In the mean time, just rest." He got up to leave but she grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Brynjolf? Keep me company?"

He hesitated, briefly entertaining the idea, but realizing quickly that he needed to keep his distance. "I would like to, lass, but I have a lot to do." He tried pulling his hand away, but she tightened her grip.

"Please?"

By the Divines, how could he say no to that pleading look in her eyes? "All right," he relented, sitting back down. He didn't say anything, however. If she wanted to have a conversation with him then she would have to initiate it.

A few moments of awkward silence ensued, in which each of them looked at their own hands. Finally Irina cleared her throat.

"So, Brynjolf, how long have you been a member of the Guild?"

He actually had to consider the answer to that, as it had been a long time since he'd done the math. "About thirty years now," he finally realized. Had it really been that long?

She arched her eyebrows in surprise. "Thirty years? You must have been so young."

"Aye, I was fifteen when Gallus recruited me."

"And what did you do before that?" she asked.

Brynjolf drew a heavy sigh. "Before that is a whole other lifetime, lass. Lived by a boy who shares only a name in common with the man he is today."

"So does that mean you're not going to tell me?"

"This game of information works both ways, lass. I know nothing at all about you."

She blanched slightly, but then shrugged like his interest didn't bother her. "What do you want to know?"

Brynjolf faltered a moment. He wasn't good at this kind of conversation. What did he want to know? "Where are you from?" he finally managed. It seemed like a harmless enough start.

"I grew up in the Rift, actually. The other end of it, though, in a little cabin half way between Iverstead and Darkwater Crossing."

He nodded at that, taking in the information, not sure what he was supposed to do with it. She waited, as if she expected something from him.

"So…where are you from?" she finally asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know, actually. My earliest memories are of Honorhall Orphanage here in Riften."

"You don't know who your parents are? Where you were born?"

"No. And I never cared to. These people here have been all the family I ever needed."

"You were lucky, I guess," she mused softly, a sadness entering her eyes.

"Aye, I suppose I was," he agreed. Then he watched her for a moment, his curiosity getting the better of him. "I take it you weren't so lucky yourself, lass?"

She shook her head. "My parents died when I was sixteen. I've spent the last seven years of my life alone."

"Oh, sorry to hear that, lass." Brynjolf was slightly taken aback by the news, but also by her bluntness. He could hear the anger in her voice when she spoke about it. Obviously it was a wound that had not fully healed, and Brynjolf was not one for reopening old wounds.

"It's in the past," she said, her words belying her obvious emotions. "And like you said, that was a whole other lifetime ago, and the girl from back then shares only a name in common with the woman you see now."

He gave her a soft smile in response to that. "Understood, lass." He patted her knee lightly through the blanket. "I really do have other things to do. But we'll speak another time. Until then, rest well." He stood up and left her alone, feeling a strong urge to get away from her, or else he would find himself pulling her into his arms to comfort her. That wouldn't do. He had to maintain a professional distance. Letting feelings get in the way in their line of work was a bad idea, as life in the Guild was too unpredictable and had no guarantees. He had learned that the hard way with Gallus. He would not do so again.

—

**A/N:** Sorry that was such a short chapter everyone. I hope you enjoyed it though. Please drop me a review, I love to hear what you guys think! :-) Thank you to all who have reviewed so far, you guys are awesome!


	9. Family, Faith and Falling Out

**Chapter Nine**

**Family, Faith and Falling Out**

—

Irina spent much of the next day continuing her recuperation and meeting a few more of the Thieves Guild members. The healing potions and bed rest had worked together to make her feel strong enough to get out of bed without too much discomfort. She walked carefully to the kitchen and sat down at the table with only a deep ache rather than sharp pains. She could handle an ache.

Before long she was joined by nearly everyone who happened to be in the Cistern at the moment. Rune and Vipir took turns introducing her to the ones she had yet to meet. The master archer she had noticed before was a Wood Elf named Niruin. The yellow glint of his slanted Bosmer eyes peeked out from under the hood he wore. His silky smooth voice contained just a hint of superiority, but not enough to be off-putting. When he found out that Irina was an archer, he offered to coach her as soon as she was feeling up to it. Irina was thrilled. Bosmer were the best archers in Skyrim. To learn from one of them would be an amazing opportunity.

Then there was Cynric Endell, former jailbreaker turned thief. Tall for a Breton, with the clearest, brightest blue eyes Irina had ever seen. He was also an accomplished archer, and it turns out so was Vipir. The three men quickly got into an argument about technique, to which Irina listened with rapt attention.

A long-haired Nord called Thrynn was the third member Irina met at breakfast. Not once did Irina see him crack a smile. But she had a feeling his rough voice and stony exterior hid a heart of gold beneath the surface. There was a certain look in his hazel eyes that gave him away. A softness in his gaze when he looked at those others in the room he obviously considered family.

Every one of these men had a different story, most of them filled with sadness, loss and hardship, much like Irina's own story. Yet in this damp cistern in a small corner of the world none of it mattered. Here they didn't care where you were from or what you had done in the past. They all had each other's backs, in good times and bad. For the first time since arriving Irina finally started to feel like maybe she could fit in, maybe she did belong here. It was a good feeling, one she wanted to hold onto as long as possible.

"So are Vex and Tonilia the only other women in your group?" she asked after a while.

Vipir grinned and shook his head. "No, there's also Sapphire," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. The way he said her name and the look in his eye told Irina what he thought of her.

"Oh, are you and she…?"

Cynric snorted. "He wishes. Sapphire hates his guts."

"Now, hate is a strong word, don't you think?" Vipir said, undaunted. "She just needs to get to know me better, that's all."

"So where is she?" Irina asked. "I haven't seen her in here since I arrived."

"Isn't she out on a job right now?" Rune asked.

"Aye," Vipir said. "Should be back in a day or two."

Irina looked forward to meeting another woman within the Guild. Vex and Tonilia seemed to have made it a point to hate her from the start, though she had no idea why. She hoped this Sapphire was more friendly, like the men Irina had met so far. There were still a few she had yet to meet, but so far the majority seemed easy to get along with.

After a few minutes Irina glanced around the Cistern and realized that Brynjolf had been nowhere in sight since she awoke. She could see Mercer Frey at his desk nearby, deliberately ignoring the chatter and antics of the others.

"Does anyone know where Brynjolf might be?" Irina asked.

"He's probably at his market stall," Rune offered. "He's been there almost every day lately."

Irina nodded. "I think I'll see if I can find him," she said, and stood up. Immediately Rune, Vipir and Cynric stood up as well. Irina chuckled and held her hands up slightly. "Easy, boys, I'm not the Jarl."

Vipir laughed sheepishly and sat back down. Cynric tried covering his impulsive gentlemanly act by leaving the table altogether. Only Rune continued to stand, giving Irina a soft smile.

"See you later," he said.

"See you," Irina replied with a wave as she walked carefully to the secret entrance.

Climbing the ladder wasn't very pleasant, but she managed it without too many grunts. The early afternoon sun was just starting to cut through the thick fog that had probably held the land in its shroud all morning. That was one if the things Irina remembered well about growing up in the Rift; it seemed to be foggy more often than not. A soft breeze blew, rustling the golden leaves in the trees overhead, and scattering them across the ground at her feet as she crossed the temple courtyard into the marketplace.

Sure enough, there was Brynjolf in his market stall, dressed in his fancy clothes, taking advantage of the gullible public. Irina wandered over and leaned her elbows on his table, making him move back a bit with an arched eyebrow.

"Lass," he said in surprise. "You're up and about."

"Obviously," Irina said with a smirk. "I thought I should go ahead and get that meeting with Maven Black-Briar over with."

"A wise idea," Brynjolf agreed.

"Do you know where I might find her?"

Brynjolf pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. "This time of day she often takes her afternoon meal at the Bee and Barb."

Irina glanced in the direction of the inn and drew a deep breath, sighing it out. "All right."

"You'll be fine," Brynjolf assured her. "Just mind your curiosity. She doesn't have a lot of patience for irrelevant questions."

Irina chuckled nervously. "Yeah, that's me. Asker of irrelevant questions. If I don't come out in ten minutes will you come in after me?"

He snorted. "You're on your own here, lass."

"Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say."

"Get going. It won't be as bad as you think."

Irina wrinkled her nose at him as she walked away. She called over her shoulder, "You're the one who made me fear her in the first place, remember that."

She didn't hear any reply he might have given as she slipped into the inn. She stood in the main room for a moment, realizing that she forgot to ask what Maven Black-Briar looked like. All the tables were occupied by the lunch crowd, so Irina scanned the faces of every woman in the room.

There was only one woman there who could possibly be the one she was looking for. Rich clothes, combed hair tightly braided, makeup perfectly applied, shoulders squared, back straight. All the other woman looked like peasants in comparison. Maven Black Briar sat at a small table along the wall with a man much younger than her.

Irina swallowed thickly and stepped up to the table. "Excuse me, are you…are you Maven Black-Briar?" She inwardly cringed. Why did she ask a stupid question like that? Of course this was Maven Black-Briar! Now she was making herself look like an idiot.

Maven looked up at her with a heavy-lidded stare of indifference. "I presume you're bothering me for a good reason," she said, her tone condescending. Her black hair and dark makeup made her look severe and rigid. Her posture and the confidence she exuded left little doubt that this woman was in charge.

Irina gestured helplessly. "Brynjolf said you wanted to see me."

Maven folded her arms across her chest, her nose wrinkling slightly. "So you're the one." She gave a resigned sigh and gestured to the man who shared her table. "Hemming, give her your seat."

Hemming huffed and gestured to his plate, indicating that he wasn't finished eating. Maven glared at him and he relented, standing up reluctantly and moving aside.

Irina hesitated only a moment before sitting down in his place. She folded her hands in her lap to still their nervous tremble, and then waited silently for Maven to get to the point.

The matriarch of the Black-Briar clan stared at Irina appraisingly for a moment before finally speaking. "Hmm. You don't look so impressive," she announced.

Irina frowned slightly. "I'm…sorry to disappoint you."

Maven sighed and gestured vaguely at her. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Once again Brynjolf sends me someone with no backbone, no determination."

Irina's frown deepened as she felt her hackles rise. She hated it when people judged her so quickly, refusing to give her the benefit of the doubt. It seemed to happen a lot. Did she really look that green and vulnerable?

"With all due respect, my Lady, you don't know me," Irina said before she could stop herself.

Maven regarded her for a brief moment. "You're right. I have only the Guild's word that you're worth anything."

"You have no faith in the Guild?"

Maven scoffed and glanced around the room. "Faith? I don't have faith in anyone." She met Irina's eyes with a cold, hard stare. "All I care about is cause and effect. Did the job get done and was it done correctly. There's no gray area."

Irina narrowed her eyes, her fear fleeing from the teeth of Maven's unfair insults. "Well, I did the job, and I did it like you wanted. You should know by now you won't have any problem with me."

"I hope not," Maven said. "What I offer you now is a very important job."

Irina frowned. "You're offering me another job?"

"Of course, girl. Why else do you think I summoned you?"

Irina clenched her teeth and glanced away for a moment. "All right, whats the job then?"

Maven poured herself a fresh cup of tea from the pot that sat in the center of the table. "I have a competitor called Honningbrew Meadery that I want to put out of business."

"Honningbrew? I know the place. It's in Whiterun."

Maven nodded. "They didn't even exist a few years ago and already that bile they call mead has reached even this far east. I want to know how they managed to get the place up and running so quickly."

"So what do you want me to do?" Irina asked.

"I have a partner in Whiterun by the name of Mallus Maccius. He keeps a room at the Bannered Mare and will fill you in on all the details."

Irina nodded. "All right then, anything else?"

Maven rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward with a minatory glare. "One more time, in case I wasn't clear. You butcher this job and you'll be sorry."

Irina gritted her teeth, partly to keep back a biting remark and partly to keep her chin from trembling in fear. It was a strange combination of feelings. She did what was probably the best thing, however. She gave the older woman a stiff nod and got up from the table. Without a backward glance she hurried from the inn.

Once outside, she finally let go a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She clenched and unclenched her fingers to calm their trembling as she made her way back to Brynjolf's booth.

"You all right there, lass?" he asked her, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"By the Nine, I never want to speak to that woman again."

Brynjolf chuckled softly. "You'll get used to her ways eventually. But don't make the mistake of not taking her seriously. She doesn't make idle threats."

"That much I gathered," Irina said. "She wants me to do a job for her."

Brynjolf nodded. "That's Maven's business, lass, not mine."

"But I work for you."

"And we work for her. Her concerns come first."

"She's sending me to Whiterun. I don't know how long this will take."

"That's fine, lass. Be sure to speak to Delvin or Vex before you leave; they might have a job or two for you on the side while you're there."

Irina sighed. She didn't think she would ever be going back to Whiterun again. It felt like she had only just left.

"I supposed I should go get ready for the trip. Oh blast!" She gestured at the inn. "I was going to check on Lydia while I was in there. I'll wait until Maven leaves." She sighed again, feeling like ten sighs wouldn't be sufficient to relieve the stress she could feel beginning to build. "I guess Lydia will be happy about returning to Whiterun."

"But not you, lass?" Brynjolf asked softly.

Irina shrugged. "Everything in Whiterun is part of the reason why I'm here instead." She didn't elaborate, waiting to see if Brynjolf would prompt her to continue. He didn't. He merely watched her, waiting for her to elaborate if she wanted to.

She didn't want to.

Yet at the same time she did.

She regarded him for a moment, studying the details of his face. He gave no hint of the emotions he might be feeling, his emerald eyes sparkling over that ever-present almost-smile. "You're not very curious are you?" she finally remarked.

He shrugged slightly."I try not to involve myself in the private affairs of my brothers and sisters in the Guild. It's better to maintain a professional relationship."

Irina arched a skeptical eyebrow at him and then blew a puff of air through pursed lips. "Sure you do."

He frowned slightly. "You calling me a liar, lass?"

"I'll call you whatever you want me to. But there's no way you can tell me you don't have very personal feelings for every single one of your people."

"What I feel and how I relate are separate things, lass. I'm one of their leaders, not their father. I'm not here to cuddle them and tell them bedtime stories."

"I doubt that would ever be necessary," Irina argued. "But to show an interest in their personal lives, to know how they feel about things, to understand them better. Seems like that would be beneficial for everyone."

He laughed shortly but there was no humor in his tone. "What do you want from me, lass? You want me to ask you personal questions?"

Irina was strangely flustered by his demand. "I—I…"

"All right then," he interrupted her, lowering his voice so as not to draw attention from passersby. "How did your parents die? Why are you so afraid of killing when I can tell you've done it before, many times, likely even in cold blood? Why are you terrified of returning to Whiterun? Who is Lydia and why does she constantly hump your leg like an anxious mutt, and why does she call you Thane?"

Irina stared at him in shock, too flustered to respond immediately. She clenched her fists as anger boiled to the surface. "How dare you!" she exclaimed in a harsh whisper.

"Don't get angry at me, lass, you wanted to get personal."

"There is a time and place for things, _Brynjolf_. You are horrible."

His voice remained quiet and controlled, but the look in his eyes hardened and his lips became a thin line. "You had better go pack a bag, lass. Whiterun is a long way from here."

She fumed at him for a moment, and then spun away and walked swiftly toward the Temple of Mara, fists clenched, posture stiff with anger and hurt. She pushed the button on the false crypt behind the temple, causing the whole thing to slide back, revealing the hidden passage. She carefully made her way down the ladder into the Cistern, and then strode through as quickly as the pain in her body allowed.

Where was she going? She had no clue, she just had to go _somewhere_. She had to be alone, away from questioning eyes. So then why did she come down here? The Cistern was probably the least private place in the whole town. She took the tunnel to the Ragged Flagon, hoping that it wouldn't be very crowded this early in the day.

She was right. Only Tonilia, Dirge and Vekel were there in their usual spots, plus the bald man Irina hadn't met yet. Luckily none of them seemed to care a Skeever's backside about her, and they pretty much ignored her as she went out onto the deck and sat down on the edge, dangling her legs over the side. The soles of her boots just brushed the surface of the water.

Was she being selfish and silly for wishing Brynjolf would take more interest in her besides professionally? Since when did she even _want_ such a thing, though? Ever since her parents died she had become a loner, a very private person, and didn't usually appreciate people's curiosity.

With Brynjolf, however, it seemed different. For some reason she really cared what he thought of her.

Presently someone sat down beside her on the deck, and she looked over to see the bald man wearing a soft smile.

"Something troubling you?" he asked. "I'll listen."

Irina frowned. "I…don't even know you."

"We haven't been officially introduced, but I know a lot about you. I've been watching you since you joined the Guild."

"That's…not at all creepy," Irina muttered sarcastically. "It looks like you have me at a huge disadvantage then."

"Apologies. Name's Delvin Mallory." He stuck out his hand for her to shake.

Irina stared at the hand for a moment before complying, giving it one half-hearted shake. "Irina," she offered.

He nodded. "Brynjolf's told me all about you."

She snorted. "Brynjolf."

"What, did you two have a falling out already?" Delvin asked with an amused tilt to his lips.

"I guess you could call it that." She kicked her feet against the water, causing little ripples to spread out across the pool.

"Well, he's had nothing but praises for you," Delvin said.

"I suppose he would. I'm his newest profit making scheme."

Delvin said nothing to that, and after a moment Irina looked at him. He was staring thoughtfully into the water.

"Am I right?" she asked him.

He glanced at her. "You're much more than that, even to Brynjolf."

"How do you know?"

"I'm his best friend. If there's anyone he confides in it's me."

Irina arched her eyebrows. "So he _does_ let some people get close then?"

"Me and him been friends since the beginning," he clarified. "No one else here like that. No one else here with that history."

"What about Rune?"

"Rune's more like a son to Brynjolf. Not someone to confide in."

"Well, then what about Vex? He seemed especially soft towards her."

Delvin hesitated. "It's not really my place to say. But yes… once upon a time he and Vex were together."

"But not anymore?"

"Like I said, it's not my place."

Irina sighed softly and stared down at the ripples on the pool.

"Might I ask why you're so worked up over this?" Delvin said softly.

"I don't even know," Irina admitted with a shrug. "I just…I guess in the short time I've been here most of you have all been really nice and welcoming. Rune, Vipir, Cynric…all of them. They want to know me, and don't mind if I know them. I'm not saying that Brynjolf isn't nice, because he is. It's just that he's got this wall he won't let anyone cross, won't let anyone get too personal. I don't know, maybe I'm expecting too much from him."

Delvin considered for a moment before answering. "Brynjolf's had trouble in the past with separating personal and professional feelings, to his great regret. It's not my place to say more than that. Suffice it to say that he's more guarded with his feelings now, but it doesn't mean he don't feel them. He thinks a great deal about you, and that should be good enough for now."

Irina sighed and rubbed her hands across her face. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'll be lucky if he ever wants to speak to me again, though."

Delvin smirked. "Well, Brynjolf seems to think you have bottles full of luck. So I'd say you're chances are pretty high."

Irina chuckled. "Bottles full of luck, eh? Well, I hope so. I've got this job in Whiterun for Maven Black-Briar; I'll need all the luck I can get."

"Going to Whiterun, eh? If you'd like some extra work on the side while you're there, I've got a job you could do."

"Right, you're the one Brynjolf told me to talk to about that. What kind of job is it?"

"Depends. How good are you at fishing?" he asked.

Irina frowned slightly. "Fishing?"

"Yeah, you know, pickpocketing."

"Oh. Not good at all. I've done it three times and got caught twice."

Delvin chuckled. "If you'd like to get better at it, talk to Vipir; he's a master." He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. "This should be something you can handle. It's a numbers job. All you have to do is change the numbers in a shop's ledger so the shortfall from our other jobs goes unnoticed. All the information you need is right there, so don't lose that note."

"Right. That doesn't sound too difficult," Irina said. Then she looked at Delvin and gave him a gentle smile. "Thank you, Delvin. You're really a nice guy."

Delvin hid a smile by turning his head away. "You ain't so bad yourself," he replied.

—

**A/N:** A big thank you to all my wonderful reviewers. You guys are awesome, and you keep me inspired! I love to know what my readers think.


	10. Dampened Spirits

**Chapter Ten**

**Dampend Spirits**

—

The road to Whiterun was a long one indeed. Irina didn't feel like walking for days, so, with some of the coin she had earned from her recent jobs, she hired a carriage to take her and Lydia back to the city where her life had changed forever. The city to which she had planned on never returning—or at least not for a very long time.

Irina had seen neither hide nor hair of Brynjolf before she left the following morning. He wasn't even in his market stall when she passed by on her way out of Riften. She had a feeling he was avoiding her. It was just as well. An Awkward farewell in front of Lydia was the last thing she wanted.

It took nearly two days to travel from Riften to Whiterun. Despite the presence of Lydia and the carriage driver, Irina felt lonely, and maintained a sour mood for the duration of the trip. An insistent downpour of rain the last three hours didn't help matters.

By the time they climbed stiff-legged from the carriage outside the walls of Whiterun, the only thing Irina wanted to do was get a room at the inn, change out of her wet clothes and go to sleep. The first two she was able to accomplish, but sleep would have to wait until after business was taken care of.

"Lydia, why don't you go home for a while, visit your family," Irina suggested as she buckled the straps of her leather armor. "I have Guild business here in the city. I'll come find you when I'm done."

"Are you sure you won't need my help?" Lydia asked.

Irina forced a thin smile. "I'm sure. Go, get caught up with people. Who knows when we'll be back here again."

"As you wish, my Thane," Lydia replied.

Irina inwardly sighed, but chose not to comment on Lydia's use of her title.

"I suppose it's too much to ask where you're going and what you'll be doing," Lydia said after she watched Irina put her boots on.

"You're right, it is too much to ask." Irina glanced up, giving Lydia a _don't even go there_ look. She stood up and grabbed her bow from off the bed, strapping it and her quiver onto her back. Without another word to Lydia she left the room.

Maven Black-Briar had told her to meet the contact, Mallus Maccius, in that very inn. All she had to do was find him. She asked the proprietor if anyone by that name was staying there, and was directed to the kitchen.

Mallus sat by himself at a table in the corner. Irina sat down across from him and he looked up at her with narrowed eyes.

"Can't a man drink in peace?" he demanded. He was a short, spindly Imperial with long, stringy black hair and a complexion only an undertaker could love.

Irina gave him a frown. "Didn't Maven tell you I was coming?"

"Oh, so you're the one," he said. He sighed and set down the mug he had been holding. "I'm going to keep this short 'cause we've got a lot to do. Honningbrew's owner, Sabjorn, is about to hold a tasting for Whiterun's Captain of the Guard, and we're going to poison the mead."

Irina's eyebrows shot up. "Poison it? I didn't know I was signing up for an assassination job."

Mallus waved in a dismissive gesture and shook his head. "No, no, we're not going to kill him. Maven employs the Dark Brotherhood for that kind of thing. We're just going make him sick enough to get Sabjorn in trouble. Maven and I spent weeks planning this. All we need is someone like you to get in there and get it done."

Irina sighed with resignation. "All right, but poisoning the mead? Wouldn't that be sort of obvious?"

Mallus smiled slightly, showing blackened teeth. "No, and that's the beauty of the whole plan. We're not just going to drop any old poison in the vats. Sabjorn's going to give it to us."

"Why would he do that?"

"The meadery has quite a pest problem and the whole city knows about it. Sabjorn's been trying for weeks to get rid of the nasty buggers, but he's in over his head. So you're going to happen by and lend poor old Sabjorn a helping hand. He's already got the poison and he'll give it to you. Pest poison and mead don't mix very well, you know what I mean?"

"How do you know all this?" Irina asked.

Mallus sighed. "I work for the conniving bastard."

Irina frowned. "But if he goes out of business than won't you be out of a job?"

"It's not a job I wanted, trust me. I made the mistake of borrowing coin from Sabjorn. Now he's got me working like a slave to pay it off."

"So that's it? You're doing all this to get rid of your debt?"

"Not entirely, no," Mallus said, and an eager glint came into his eyes. "If this plan works, not only is my debt gone, but I'll be set up for life. Maven and I worked out a little deal. If Sabjorn ends up in jail, she's going to take over his meadery. And guess who gets to run the Black-Briar Meadery in Whiterun." He grinned and leaned back in his chair, locking his fingers behind his head. "You're looking at him."

Irina smiled slightly and nodded. "I see. Well, as someone who works there, is there any advice you can give me? Anything I should know before I go in?"

"The vats are in a separate building next to the main one. Sabjorn keeps that one locked up tight, and I highly doubt you'd be able to get in. However, the skeevers have tunnels running between the buildings. The entrance is in the basement of the warehouse and used to be boarded over, but I removed the boards so the meadery would get infested. I suggest starting there."

"All right," Irina said. "How long do I have?"

"The tasting is tonight," Mallus said. "You need to be finished before the Captain of the Guard arrives so I can draw a batch of the _special_ mead for him. If you aren't finished before Sabjorn asks me to draw the mead then I'll have to stall, and that won't look good. So don't take your time."

"I'll head right over then," Irina said, and stood up.

"Good luck," Mallus offered.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Honningbrew Meadery was located about half a mile down the road from Whiterun's gates. Luckily the rain had let up by the time Irina set out, so she didn't look like a wandering vagabond upon arriving.

The main room of the meadery was set up like a tavern, with a long bar where customers could sit and enjoy a mug of the house brew. When Irina walked in she immediately noticed the bodies of dead skeevers littering the floor. The smell of blood and filth in the place was almost overpowering. All Irina could do for a moment was stand there and stare; she had not been expecting the situation to be so bad. She didn't noticed the man standing across from her until he spoke.

"What are you gawking at?" he demanded. "Can't you see I have problems here?"

Irina looked up at a balding man wearing a very dirty, blood-smeared apron. She assumed him to be Sabjorn.

"I see that," she said, glancing around at the carnage. "What happened here?"

"We've been having problems with pests for a while, but its recently gotten out of hand," Sabjorn said. He looked like he was about ready to pull out his hair if he had had any. "I'm supposed to be holding a tasting of the new Honningbrew Reserve for the Captain of the Guard tonight. If he sees the meadery in this state, I'll be ruined."

"Can't you just clean it up?" Irina asked, trying to sound like just a passerby that didn't really care.

"Of course I'll clean it up," Sabjorn said, growing impatient. "But what's to stop the vermin from showing themselves during the tasting? I've been trying to get rid of them, but there are too many. My good-for-nothing assistant seems to have abandoned me."

"I see," Irina murmured, still gazing around at the mess. "Well, I could help out, if you want."

He immediately narrowed his eyes at her. "Oh really? And I don't suppose you'd just do it out of the kindness of your heart, would you?"

Irina forced a short laugh. "Uh, no. I'm a traveler looking for work, and I don't work for free."

"I hope you're not expecting to get paid until the job's done," Sabjorn said with a hint of resignation in his tone.

"Like I said, I don't work for free," Irina replied firmly.

Sabjorn sighed. "Oh, very well." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. "Here's half. You get the rest when the job's done."

Irina glanced at the coins. One hundred septims. A bit stingy, but a bit of gold on the side was always a good thing.

"All I ask is that these vermin are permanently eliminated before my reputation is completely destroyed," Sabjorn continued.

Irina tucked the coins in her pocket. "And how would you like me to _permanently_ eliminate them?"

"I bought some poison," Sabjorn answered, and went around to the other side of his bar and began to rummage underneath. "I was going to have Mallus handle it, but he seems to have vanished."

"Who is Mallus, now?" Irina asked as she gazed disinterestedly at the shelves that lined the wall.

"He's my lazy, good-for-nothing assistant," Sabjorn grumbled. He stood up straight and moved to the other end of the bar to continue his search. "Still, I suppose he's the best deal I ever made. You see, I lent him a bit of coin some time ago and I knew he'd never be able to pay it back." He found what he was looking for and stood up straight, setting a sealed jug on the bar. He gave Irina a smug grin. "Nothing like free labor to make operating costs cheeper."

Irina arched an unamused eyebrow. "Right…"

Sabjorn gestured to the jug on the bar. "Here's the poison. If you plant it in the vermin's nest, it should stop them from ever coming back."

"And where exactly is this nest?" Irina asked as she took the jug.

"They've got all kinds of tunnels behind the walls of the basement," Sabjorn said. He handed her a key. "This will get you down there. I don't know exactly where the nest is, but I'm sure you can snoop around and find it, right?"

"Consider it done," Irina said over her shoulder as she headed to a set of doors that led deeper into the meadery.

"I don't want to see you back here until every one of those things is dead," Sabjorn called after her.

"No problem," Irina muttered as she closed the door behind her. "You malicious slave driver of a man." If she had any qualms about ruining this man's reputation before, they were long gone now.

She found the door to the basement and used the key to unlock it. Traps had been set in random places throughout the room, and skeever bodies littered the floor. The place was a disgusting mess. Bringing the Captain of the Guard down here would probably be enough to get Sabjorn in trouble, but perhaps not put him out of business permanently. Irina would just follow along with Maven's and Mallus's plan, as they probably new the politics of such things better than she. Not to mention she wanted to get paid when all was said and done.

The tunnels were not difficult to find, and—skeevers being as large as they are—were spacious enough to allow Irina to crawl though with little trouble. However, two hundred gold was nowhere near enough for a job of this nature. She hoped Maven was more generous.

Skeevers still lived in the tunnels, but Irina took care of them with her sword easily enough. It was when she finally found the nest that she was challenged. The tunnel opened up into a large chamber infested with the nasty critters, and they were not happy to see her. They rushed at her from all directions, and Irina quickly backed into the tunnel again so she could pick them off one by one and not get surrounded. The last thing she needed right now was a poisoned skeever bite.

Once all the rats were taken care of, Irina poured some of the poison around the nest so the pests would never repopulate. Then she continued on her way through the tunnels. After what seemed like miles of twistings and turnings, filthy and exhausted, Irina finally came to the end where the tunnel opened up into another basement room. A set of steps let up into the brewery, which was lined with large brewing vats.

The room seemed to be empty, so Irina quickly got to work. She gained the steps to an elevated walkway that wrapped around the room, giving her access to the tops of the vats. The metal lids were heavy, but she managed to push them aside. She dumped some poison into each vat. Not too much to be fatal, but enough to notice.

Once she was finished, she looked for a way out besides back the way she had come. The door to the brewery was locked with an impressive lock, just as Mallus said it would be. However, Irina noticed a key hanging on a hook near the door. She tried the key in the lock and the door opened. Grinning with satisfaction, she made her way back to the main building and saw Mallus just entering. She walked in moments after him to hear Sabjorn raising his voice angrily.

"Where have you been, Mallus?"

"I had a family emergency," Mallus offered with an indifferent tone.

"Well I've had an emergency here!" Sabjorn almost shouted. "But there's no time to explain, the Captain of the Guard will be here any minute. I need you to go fill up a small keg with the brew from vat number three. I tested it this morning and it's perfect. Bring it back here at once."

"As you wish," Mallus grumbled. As he walked away he glanced at Irina and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

Once Mallus was gone, Sabjorn tuned to Irina. "What are you doing back here? You can't have finished the job already."

"Well I did. I poisoned the nest, just like you wanted. I also killed all the skeevers that were down there, so you shouldn't see any more of them."

"Barely in time, too," Sabjorn grumbled. "The captain's going to be here any minute."

"What about my pay?" Irina demanded. Here she had done him a huge favor and he wasn't even grateful.

Just then the front door opened and the Captain of the Guard himself walked in.

Sabjorn's eyes went wide and then he shot a quick glare at Irina. "You'll have to wait." With that he stepped forward to greet the captain, all smiles and eager friendliness, assuring his guest that the pest problem had been properly taken care of.

Irina sighed and sat down in a chair against the wall, deciding to wait and see what would happen.

A few minutes later Mallus returned with a small keg, which he set on end of the bar. Sabjorn handed a silver chalice to the captain.

"Help yourself, milord," he said. "It's my finest brew yet. I call it Honningbrew Reserve. I think you'll find it quite pleasing to your palate."

The captain smirked. "Oh come now, this is mead, not some wine to be sipped and savored." He moved over to the keg and poured some for himself.

Mallus moved to stand against the wall beside Irina. She looked up at him and they exchanged an amused glance.

The captain took a sip of the mead and then smacked his lips as he tasted it. Then he frowned and scrunched his nose.

"Is…is it not to your liking?" Sabjorn asked, looking nervous.

The captain took another tentative sip and then cringed. "By the Eight, what's in this?" he demanded.

Sabjorn frowned. "I…don't know. What's wrong?"

The captain's hand went to his stomach and he doubled over slightly. "You assured me this place was clean!"

"It is," Sabjorn insisted. "The vermin never got into the vats. Nothing ever got in there."

"That mead is contaminated!" the captain said, pointing an accusing finger at the keg. "You thought I wouldn't notice?"

"I assure you I—"

"I'll see to it that…that you remain in irons for the rest of your days!" The captain was starting to look pretty pale by now, and Irina began to worry she might have put too much poison in the vat.

"No, wait, what? I don't understand," Sabjorn insisted.

"Silence, idiot!" the captain shouted, obviously taking the whole thing very personally. "I should have known better…to trust this place after it's been riddled with filth."

Mallus whispered to Irina, "That should have been obvious."

Irina suppressed a snicker, actually enjoying watching Sabjorn squirm.

"No, please, I beg you," Sabjorn insisted. "This isn't what it seems."

The captain waved his hand at Sabjorn to get him to shut up, then he gestured to Mallus. "You there, you work here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you're in charge here until I can sort this all out."

The corners of Mallus' lips turned up slightly. "It would be my pleasure."

"And you…" The captain turned back to Sabjorn. "You're coming with me to Dragonsreach. We'll see how quickly your memory clears in the city's prisons." He put one hand over his stomach again and braced the other against the bar. "Now…move," he gritted.

Sabjorn held up both hands in a gesture of peace. "Look, I assure you, this is all just a huge misunderstanding!"

The captain drew his sword. "I said move!"

Sabjorn quickly backed down and surrendered without any further trouble, and the captain led him from the building. When the door closed behind them, Mallus walked to the bar and placed his hand on it with a satisfied smirk.

"I don't think that could have gone any better."

"I didn't think he would actually be arrested," Irina admitted. "Put out of business, yes, but not put in jail."

The smug look didn't leave Mallus' face as he glanced at her. "The Captain of the Guard is known for his sensitive disposition. I had a feeling he would over react like that. Even if Sabjorn's in jail only a night or two, he won't be getting his meadery back."

"And you're a free man," Irina said.

Mallus nodded. "And I'm a free man. Listen, is there anything else you need before you head back to Riften?"

"Actually, yes. Maven wanted me to get a look at Sabjorn's books."

"So, Maven wants to hunt down Sabjorn's private partner, huh? Well, you're welcome to take a look around Sabjorn's private office. He keeps most of his papers locked in his desk. Here, this should help." He handed her a small key. "It's on the second floor, just through there."

"Thanks," Irina said, and found her way to the office. Out of habit, she wandered around the room, looking in all the drawers and cupboards before approaching the desk. She found a bit of gold stashed away in one of the drawers, and a few trinkets that might fetch a price.

Finally she unlocked the desk and searched through a stack of papers. She found one that had the same strange symbol as the Goldenglow bill of sale; a downward facing sword over a black circle. Irina quickly read the letter, which seemed to be from Sabjorn's investor, informing him that the last payment would be arriving with a certain shipment and that he could now begin full production of mead. It also mentioned the investor would do everything in his or her power to keep Maven Black-Briar and the Thieves Guild at bay.

Well, whoever this person was they weren't doing a very good job of that. Irina folded the letter and put it into her belt pouch. She looked around a little longer, but found nothing else of import, so she returned to the main room.

"All done here," she informed Mallus.

"Thanks for your help," he said. "And hey, if you're ever in the area and need anything fenced, you just let me know."

Irina gave him a smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Remember to put in a good word with Maven for me," Mallus called after her as she opened the front door.

"Will do." Irina left the meadery and made her way back to Whiterun. She still had the job to do for Delvin, but that would be a piece of cake in comparison. She would get it over with quickly and then try to get a good night's rest. She wanted to be on the road back to Riften early in the morning. No sense lingering in Whiterun any longer than necessary.

—

**Author's Note:** So I feel like I need like I need to apologize to my readers for this completely uninspired chapter chuck full of canon material. This is my least favorite chapter up to this point. My muse was seriously on hiatus when I wrote it, and refuses to make an appearance every time I try to improve it. But I didn't want to hold up the show for those other chapters waiting in the wings, so I decided to go ahead and post it anyway. If any of you feel the same way about it and have suggestions for how I could make it better, please PM me, I would LOVE to hear them! Keep in mind that I am writing with non-fans in mind, since nearly all my friends and family who read my stories haven't played the game, so I have to put canon stuff in it so they know what's going on. But I do think I could have mixed it up better in this one, I just don't know how. So anyway, I just wanted to say that. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter anyway, please give me your thoughts, thanks!


	11. Work, Lessons and Waiting

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter is a couple days late, this was a very busy weekend and I just didn't have the chance to post it. So here it is now, hope you all enjoy. Remember to review and subscribe. My readers are what keep me inspired and keep me writing. Thank you to all who have reviewed and subscribed so far. You guys are awesome!

—

**Chapter Eleven**

**Work, Lessons and Waiting**

—

The carriage ride back to Riften took longer than expected. A broken wheel set them back a good five hours, so it was well past dark by the time they finally arrived on the second day. Irina didn't want to camp twice on the road, so they just pushed through, a brilliant yellow and orange aurora lighting their way.

Irina gave Lydia some coin for a room at the inn, and then she herself went down to the Cistern. Dropping her pack on her bed, she sat down beside it with a sigh. A quick glance around told her who was present and who was out. Mercer, Brynjolf and Vipir were nowhere to be seen.

She was somewhat glad that Brynjolf was gone; she had not been looking forward to seeing him again. What would she say to him? Would he even talk to her? Was their little argument even as bad as she thought? Would he act like nothing had even happened? The not knowing is what scared her. During her long hours of traveling the last few days she had thought a lot about that encounter, and about the load of questions Brynjolf had dumped on her. They were proof that he was curious, he did in fact have questions, just for some reason he was holding back his curiosity. Maybe he just needed to get to know her better first. Maybe he didn't like to talk about personal things with near strangers. She couldn't fault him for that either as she felt the same way.

She decided she would keep her distance for a while, let him come to her if he really wanted to know more about her. There were plenty of other people within the Guild who were willing to give her the time of day, and several she had yet to meet. She would not be lacking in company, that was for sure.

As if he had read her mind, Rune appeared in front of her wearing a grin.

"Hey, you're back. Good to see you."

"Good to see you, Rune," Irina replied with a weary smile.

"How are you?" Rune asked. "That was a long journey for someone in your condition."

"Yeah, that's why I took a carriage," Irina said. "But I'm doing a lot better. I hardly feel my injury anymore."

"Good to hear," Rune said genuinely.

Just then the secret entrance creaked open and Brynjolf stormed into the Cistern, his countenance that of a thundercloud. A very worried looking Vipir was close on his heels. Their raised voices carried easily through the echoing chamber of the Cistern.

"You have to believe me, Brynjolf," Vipir was saying, his tone pleading. "I swear by Dibella I locked that door behind me."

"Then explain to me why it was unlocked when he returned home," Brynjolf demanded, not slowing his pace as he made his way to Mercer's desk.

"I don't know what to say," Vipir admitted sheepishly. "This whole thing is embarrassing."

"You're damn right its embarrassing," Brynjolf agreed. "That's two times in one month, Vipir. Maven's not going to bail you out again. You muck up a third time and you're on your own."

Irina frowned at the exchange and glanced at Rune. "Do you know what's going on?"

Rune mirrored her frown and shook his head. "I only know he went out on a job in town yesterday, but he didn't return until just now. Something must have gone wrong."

"You're not going to tell Mercer, are you?" Vipir asked Brynjolf.

Brynjolf snorted as he braced his hands on Mercer's desk and looked up at the other man. "Luckily for you Mercer's got more important things to worry about than incompetent junior members. That's my job."

"So what are you going to do?" Vipir asked.

"You know the rules, Vipir."

"Come on, Brynjolf, I need that coin; I'm broke. I haven't had a decent job in months."

"Then quit mucking them up!" Brynjolf said, not quite shouting. Irina wasn't sure Brynjolf was capable of shouting, but he came pretty close right then.

"But it wasn't my fault!" Vipir insisted again. "It was bad luck, not incompetence. You know I'm better than that, Brynjolf. You know I wouldn't be that sloppy."

"Aye, that's why I'm so disappointed," Brynjolf said. "Now go take a bath, you smell like piss."

Without another word, Vipir spun around and stormed across the bridge toward the Ragged Flagon, which brought him right past Irina's bed.

"Vipir, what's going on?" Rune asked him.

Vipir huffed and gestured in frustration. "Job went sour, had to spend the night in jail."

"What?" Irina exclaimed. "What happened?"

"I was supposed to clean out a house in town. No one was home, so I locked the door again once I was inside, incase the owner returned before I was done, they wouldn't find anything amiss and be tipped off. It's procedure."

"Make sense," Irina said with a nod.

"Well, the door wasn't locked when they returned, even though I'm sure without a doubt that I locked it. I hid, and they wouldn't have ever known I was there if not for that stupid lock. They called the guard and I was found and arrested. Stupid." He shook his head in disgust. "Brynjolf had to get Maven Black-Briar to bail me out."

"That's the second time this month," Rune said.

"Damn it, don't you think I know that?" Vipir exclaimed, clearly not happy with himself. He stomped off down the corridor to the Flagon without another word.

"Poor Vipir," Irina said. "He's taking it pretty hard."

"Everyone's luck has been sour lately," Rune informed. "Vipir's more so than some. Looks like Brynjolf's patience is finally starting to wear thin."

"I've heard rumors around town about the Guild having bad luck," Irina said. "So it's actually true?"

"Seems to be. More and more jobs are going sour. It seems to be more difficult to remain undetected while trespassing, harder to pick even simple locks, things like that. You should hear some of Delvin's crazy theories as to why."

Irina arched an eyebrow. "Crazy theories?"

"He thinks we're cursed," Rune explained.

"Oh," Irina chuckled. "And what do you think?"

Rune shrugged. "Can there truly be an explanation for bad luck? It just happens. You just have to make the best of it I suppose."

"I guess that's all anyone can do," Irina agreed. "Have you ever been arrested, Rune?"

He shook his head. "Arrested, yes. Served time in jail, no."

"How were you arrested and not jailed?" Irina asked curiously.

"It was back when I was just starting out. Brynjolf was such a mother hen back then. He wouldn't let anyone touch me, even the guards. He wouldn't let them take me to jail."

"He has that kind of authority over the guards?"

"Not authority, per se. More like power, intimidation. They turn a blind eye if he tells them to because if they don't they'll have to answer to Maven."

"So can any of us use that?" Irina asked. "Just tell the guard you're with the Guild and they'll leave you alone?"

Rune laughed. "It's been known to work, but I wouldn't count on it. It really depends on the severity of your crime and the willingness of the guard. Not to mention the frequency of your offense."

"Oh, you made it sound like Brynjolf uses that advantage all the time."

"He doesn't have to 'use' it like a free pass or something. Everyone knows who Brynjolf is. The guards don't mess with him by rote."

"So, what, if they catch him robbing someone blind they'll just stand by and watch?"

Rune laughed again and shook his head. "You sure have a lot of questions. No, Brynjolf doesn't even do jobs like that anymore; hasn't for years."

"Sorry," Irina said with a meek smile. "I've always been overly curious; it's a vice of mine."

"Don't apologize," Rune insisted. "It's actually refreshing. Everyone here is so guarded, so private."

"Yes, well, I guess we all have secrets," Irina said softly. "But that doesn't mean we can't be friendly between the lines."

"An interesting way of putting it. Between the lines…" Rune mulled that over for a moment. "If I ever step over the line, Irina, just let me know."

"That's sweet of you, Rune, thank you."

"So… have you ever been in jail, Irina?" he asked hesitantly.

She gave him a soft smile and nodded. "A couple times, back when I was just starting out, before I knew what I was doing. Not for several years now, though. I'm not very eager to go through that again." She chuckled softly. "My number one goal when doing a job is not necessarily accomplishing it, but rather not getting caught doing it."

Rune chuckled. "That's a healthy outlook to have."

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Several days passed and Irina fully recovered from her injuries. She kept busy doing small jobs around Riften for Delvin and Vex, and she met the remaining members of the Guild. Etienne Rarnis was a Breton who liked to keep to himself, but was friendly enough when approached. He was rarely in the Cistern, preferring to keep busy elsewhere.

Sapphire was the third female member of the group, and the one Irina had most anticipated meeting. She shouldn't have bothered, though. Just like Vex and Tonilia, Sapphire refused to give her the time of day, and was in fact quite hostile when Irina attempted conversation. Sapphire left again on another job or something, so Irina didn't have another chance to break the ice.

Not that she wanted to. What was wrong with all the women in the Thieves Guild that they felt they had to be total jerks all the time? Were they just being tough to hold their own with the men in the group? If that was the case Irina found it to be pathetic. She believed a woman could be strong without being an ass.

In any case, she resigned herself to the fact that all her friends in the Guild would be men, indefinitely. Maybe some day the women would warm up to her, but she wasn't going to hold her breath.

In three days Irina had seen Brynjolf only in passing. He pretty much ignored her and avoided her whenever he could. Irina kept her distance as well, determined to wait him out, to make him come to her and apologize for his behavior. It didn't occur to her that she might have been expecting too much from him.

She spent her down time between jobs in the Cistern, learning more about her fellow thieves, and learning from them anything they could teach her to improve her skills as a thief. Vipir was a gods send, as he knew everything there was to know about pickpocketing, and Irina would be the first to admit she needed practice with that.

"Practice makes perfect, that's all there is to it," Vipir said, one late night as he and Irina sat across from each other at the dining table. Nearly everyone else had long since gone to bed. "You'll never get good at pickpocketing if you don't practice."

"But how do I practice without getting caught?" Irina asked. "I know I'll get caught, and I've spent time in jail for it before."

"Practice here," Vipir said.

"You mean…on you?"

Vipir smirked and shook his head. "No, not on me. No one can pickpocket me without me knowing about it." He gestured out into the Cistern. "Practice on any one of them."

"Won't they mind?" Irina asked hesitantly.

"Not if they never know about it," Vipir said with a chuckle.

"Well, they're all sleeping now. I guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"Nonsense," Vipir insisted. "While they're sleeping is the best chance, especially if you're not very skilled yet." He gestured to a bed across the way. "Go ahead, give it a shot."

"That's Thrynn's bed."

"So?"

"He'll detect me, I'm sure of it."

"You can't be sure until you try," Vipir insisted, then he sighed. "You wanted pickpocket training. Are you going to follow my advice or not?"

"All right, all right, I'll do it," Irina said as she stood up. "But if he bashes my face in, I'm blaming you. What exactly am I suppose to be looking for anyway? What could he possibly have in his pockets while he's sleeping?"

"You have several choices," Vipir said. "He always has a set of lock picks in his pocket, even when he's sleeping. Or you could try to take the amulet he wears around his neck; he never takes it off. He also has a dagger under his pillow. It's not technically pickpocketing, but I could count it as such."

Irina frowned. "How do you know all this?"

Vipir smirked. "You're asking a master pickpocket how he knows what's in his friends' pockets?"

"Right, forget I asked," Irina mumbled. She turned to go, but then glanced back at him. "Have you ever picked my pocket?"

In answer, all he gave her was a smile and a wink and then he shooed her on her way.

Irina approached Thrynn's bed quietly. He was lying on his side facing her, his eyes closed, face relaxed in sleep. She could see the chain of his amulet around his neck, but the amulet itself was tucked inside his shirt. Which would be easiest to take, the amulet, the lock picks or the dagger?

She figured maybe the dagger would be easiest, since she wouldn't actually have to touch him in order to get it. However, that seemed like cheating, since it wasn't technically pickpocketing. She decided to go for the amulet instead.

Thrynn's bed was against the wall, so she couldn't sneak around and remove the amulet from behind where it was easier to reach the clasp at the back of his neck. She had to reach around him, and that was a challenge, but what made it most difficult was his long hair covering his neck. With the tips of her fingers she gently moved the hair aside, brushing it back onto the pillow. Then she slipped her fingers behind his neck and found the chain, carefully lifting it off his skin. She shifted her fingers along its length until she felt the clasp, and was disheartened when she realized it was the kind that could not be opened with one hand.

This was rapidly getting awkward and Irina constantly glanced at Thrynn's eyes to make sure he was still asleep as she moved her other hand up to join the first one. She was having difficulty keeping her balance now, crouched over him as she was. Maybe she should have gone for the dagger after all.

Finally she got the clasp undone and began to slowly pull the amulet out of his shirt. Her heart nearly stopped when his hand abruptly shot up and seized around her wrist. She glanced wide eyed at his face and saw his brown eyes starting at her.

"What are you doing?" he asked calmly.

Irina was anything but calm. "I…I was just…"

"If you wanted a kiss all you had to do was ask," he said.

Irina sputtered and tried jerking her hand away, but he wouldn't yield his grip. He glanced down at the locket in her hand, having been fully pulled from his shirt when she tried freeing herself. He leaned up on one elbow and placed his free hand under hers. She dropped the locket into it and he released his grip on her wrist.

Then he reclined on his back, locking his fingers behind his head. He looked up at her with a smug grin. "How about it, Irina? Just a little kiss." He puckered his lips at her.

She scowled. "Go drown yourself," she bit out, and stormed away, his amused chuckles chasing her all the way back to the table where Vipir sat, also chuckling. "Damn you, Vipir, you _knew_ that would happen."

He held up his hands in surrender. "I knew nothing of the sort. You weren't supposed to get caught."

"But you knew I would be."

"I _hoped_ you wouldn't be."

"Liar. You were looking forward to that show."

Vipir chuckled again. "You're right, I was. You have to admit, it was pretty funny."

Irina growled and picked up a cup of water that sat on the table. She held it over his head and he scrambled from his seat as if it were a hot stove top.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! All right, truce! Truce!" he begged, still laughing.

Irina relented and set the cup down. "See if I ever take pickpocketing lessons from you again." She retreated to her bed and climbed under the covers. She couldn't stay sore at Vipir for long, however, and before she drifted off to sleep she caught herself chuckling softly at the silliness of the whole thing.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

The next morning Irina received a job from Delvin that would take her all the way to the wintery city of Windhelm far to the north. While it wasn't as far away as Whiterun, it would take her just as long to get there, since she planned on walking this time. Her own feet were her favorite form of transportation and she used them as often as she could. Besides, she wanted to get in a little hunting on her way there, and she wouldn't be able to do that as easily from the back of a carriage. She missed hunting. Hunting had been her way of life for so long, she would never give it up fully.

Lydia admitted she was eager to be on the road again. Hanging around Riften by herself for days at a time had long since become dull. Irina's wandering spirit couldn't agree more with that statement, although, the newly forming part of her that liked to linger in one place was already feeling homesick at just the thought of leaving. Especially with things between her and Brynjolf still unresolved.

The more time that passed the more silly the whole thing became, and the angrier she felt at his stubbornness. Why couldn't they just have a normal conversation like any other two people?

She had to speak with him before she left. She wasn't sure what she would say. She just hoped the words would come to her when she needed them.

She found Brynjolf in the training room, practicing moves with the twin daggers he preferred. He was without his leather cuirass and wore only a loose-fitting linen shirt untucked from his leather pants. Even his boots were missing, his bare toes gripping the stone floor as he moved in a deadly dance of twists, thrusts and slashes. Irina paused in the doorway and watched him for a moment, impressed by his fluid skill.

After a few minutes Brynjolf stopped and sheathed his weapons. He didn't acknowledge her presence as he snatched a towel off the arm of one of the sack dummies and used it to wipe the sweat from his face and neck.

Finally he did speak, keeping his back to her. "What did you want, lass? I'm kind of busy right now."

Irina hesitated. What did she want? Why had she come here? She took a couple hesitant steps into the room. "I…I'm just letting you know I'm leaving for a few days. Delvin gave me a job in Windhelm."

Brynjolf nodded. "Glad to see Delvin's keeping you busy."

Irina waited for him to say more, but he remained silent, occupying himself by attempting to mend one of the sack dummies that had been sliced open by a blade during someone's practice session. It was a menial task he would probably not have bothered himself with had Irina not interrupted his training.

"All right," Irina finally said. "I guess I'll be going then." She turned to walk away, feeling her throat clench up.

"Good luck out there, lass," Brynjolf offered softly. "Come back to us alive."

Irina clenched her jaw tightly as she fled down the corridor to the Cistern. She nearly collided with Delvin on the way out, but she didn't pause in her step as she hurried to the secret entrance. Maybe some more time away would do them both good.


	12. Realizations

**Chapter Twelve**

**Realizations**

**—**

**A/N:** Since last week's chapter was late, I thought I would make this week's a bit early, because why not? And since this chapter is so short, I may, MAY post a bonus chapter Saturday or Sunday, if I get the chance. But then again I might not, so yeah, don't hold your breath or anything.

**—**

Brynjolf looked over his shoulder just in time to see Irina's back disappear around the corner of the tunnel. "Blast," he muttered, and shot his fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp in frustration.

Only seconds later Delvin entered, looking behind him in bewilderment. "What's wrong with her?" he asked. "Looks like she was about to cry."

Brynjolf shrugged and smoothed his hair back away from his eyes. "Who can tell?"

Delvin frowned as he came all the way into the room, looking closely at his friend. "Did you do something to her?"

"What are you talking about? Of course not," Brynjolf said defensively.

"Don't be playing ignorant with me, old friend," Delvin chided. "Something happened between you two last week; she told me so."

Brynjolf's eyebrows shot up in astonishment. "She talked to you about it?"

"Well, she obviously weren't going to talk to you," Delvin pointed out. "I know how you can get sometimes."

"The lass is just too sensitive," Brynjolf decided. "Too emotional."

Delvin chuckled. "She's a woman, Bryn. Are you surprised?"

"No, I just wish she'd be emotional around someone else. She wants to _talk_ about things. Things I don't want to tell her."

"What kinds of things?" Delvin asked curiously.

"She wants to know about my past, and wants me to ask her questions about hers. But I don't care. I'm not interested."

Delvin scoffed and shook his head in amusement. "That's one of the tallest tales you've ever told, Brynjolf. I know how much you love information, knowing all there is to know about someone, having that advantage over them. You can't tell me you don't feel the same way about Irina."

Brynjolf sighed dramatically and ran his hand through his hair again. He was being called out and he didn't like it. "Fine, yes, I _am_ curious," he admitted, and it almost felt good to do so. "Especially about her, because there's just something…different about her. Something hidden and unusual. I can't put my finger on it, and yes, it's driving me insane."

"So then why don't you just ask her about it?" Delvin said. "Why keep yourself deliberately in the dark?"

Brynjolf shook his head and sat down on a bale of straw, bracing his arms on his knees and leaning all his weight on them. How could he answer that when he wasn't even sure of the answer himself?

After a moment of silence Delvin nodded in understanding. "I see. You care about her, as in more than just an investment. A lot more."

Brynjolf sputtered and looked up at his friend. "I care about her? Don't be silly, Delvin. I don't even know her."

"Exactly," Delvin said, pointing his finger at Brynjolf. "You don't _want_ to get to know her, because subconsciously you know you like her. But you don't want to become involved with her, so you push her away, without really knowing why."

Brynjolf gaped at Delvin for a moment. "By the Eight, Delvin, you over-analyze things! First that silly notion that the Guild is cursed, and now this?"

Delvin held up his hands in surrender and then sat down on the straw bale beside him. "I just tell it like I see it, Brynjolf. Take what you want from it."

Brynjolf sighed and a silence fell between them, comfortable in their long years of friendship. He pondered Delvin's words, taking them to heart even though he outwardly protested. Delvin was his solid rock, the one who kept him on the straight path, so to speak. Delvin always seemed to have an answer for the conundrums Brynjolf faced in life. He would be a fool to dismiss any input that man had to give, and he knew it.

"Damn," he said softly after several minutes. "You're right, Delvin. You're damn right."

Delvin only smiled softly and nodded.

Brynjolf rubbed his forehead. "Damn," he muttered again as the realization continued to sink in. He cared about Irina. He could feel it like a slow ache in his chest that wouldn't go away. He knew it by the way he thought about her whenever she wasn't around, and how he wanted to gaze at her whenever she was. He knew it because of how he worried about her when she was gone on a job, and how he longed to walk beside her on the road. It had been a long time since he had felt that way about anyone, and it scared him.

"What are you going to do?" Delvin finally asked.

Brynjolf shrugged helplessly. "What _can_ I do? I can't let myself get close to another Guild member. Not after what happened to Gallus and Karliah. Not after what happened with Vex."

"Understandable," Delvin agreed. "But can't you keep your distance and still be friendly?"

"I don't know," Brynjolf admitted. "I suppose I can try."

Delvin nodded his approval. "That's good, because she thinks the world of you, wanting to impress you and all. I think she's been more than a little confused about the way you've been treating her. She don't deserve it, Bryn."

"No, she doesn't," Brynjolf agreed. He slapped his hand on his friend's back and offered a tight smile. "Thank you, Delvin. I wonder sometimes what I'd do without you."

Delvin chuckled softly. "I often wonder the same thing myself."

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Irina and Lydia arrived in Windhelm the second evening after leaving Riften. It took them longer than she anticipated because they had to stop three times to skin deer she had killed along the way. It had felt good to get out into the open air, out of the dank Cistern, to feel the sun on her skin and the wind in her hair. It was amazing how quickly she had grown to miss it.

Irina had been to Windhelm once before a few years ago, and she never wanted to return. For one thing, she hated the cold and the snow. The Nord influence in her blood may have given her a greater physical tolerance for it, but it did not make her immune. Especially since she was only half Nord, having had an Imperial mother. She had also grown up in the most southern reaches of Skyrim, where it snowed only a few times each winter, and where the summers were long and warm. Why anyone would choose to live in a land of perpetual snow was beyond her.

They arrived in the city just in time before the market closed for the evening, so Irina had a chance to sell the deer hides to the blacksmith. Then she and Lydia rented two rooms at the Candlehearth Hall. A large inn with the entire second floor dedicated as a common room in which guests could relax around the fire, listen to the bard sing and play music, or enjoy the company of other travelers and share gossip over a mug of spiced wine.

The company Irina wasn't interested in. The spiced wine and music, however sounded just about right. She and Lydia found empty seats near the fire, and after ordering their drinks they sat back and listened to the soft tunes of the flute.

Irina let her mind wander, reflecting over the last few days. Her thoughts kept turning to Brynjolf and she deliberately steered them in other directions. She didn't want to think about him. She wanted to enjoy her time there and relax before crawling under her blankets to sleep. That's all she wanted to do. Brynjolf could just keep on waiting.

After a few minutes the female bard took out her lute and began to play a song that Irina had heard countless times over the years. A song that had never been anything more to her than a simple tune that people liked to sing because it was easy to remember.

_Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart._

_I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes._

Immediately all other sounds in the room faded away, and all Irina heard were the words to that ancient song.

_With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art._

_Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes._

That song was about her, wasn't it? This bard was singing about her.

_It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes._

_Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes._

But she wasn't a hero. She wasn't this Dragonborn the song spoke of.

_For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows._

_You'll know, you'll know the Dragonborn's come._

The song ended, but the words still played over in Irina's head. Dragonborn, the Graybeards had called her. That hero of legend that prophecy spoke of, who would one day return in the world's darkest hour and rid the land of evil.

But that wasn't her. She was no hero. She was no warrior. She could hold her own in a fight, sure, but she didn't seek out battle for honor. She barely knew what honor was. She was a thief, a sneak, someone who would rather not be noticed. Not someone to be admired and praised by many.

_Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes._

It was a song of hope, sung by a people long oppressed, living in fear of the end of the world. Who was she to deny them their one hope? Who was she to decide her selfish life was more important than all the lives in Skyrim? Who was she to deny prophecy?

But she was no hero! What would she be saving the world from anyway? The Empire? The Thalmor? The Stormcloaks? She had never cared about politics. She had kept her nose out of the war, content to live her life and mind her own business. The only thing she really ever cared about was Talos. Her parents had been devout followers, and would probably have been Stormcloaks themselves if there had been such a thing in their day. Irina had kept up the tradition of honoring Talos, at first as a way to honor and remember her parents. But over the years her faith in Talos had grown, and had kept her strong during some very trying times.

Was it not ironic that she had chosen Talos, the hero-god of warriors, as her patron? That Talos himself, when he was still a man, had been Dragonborn?

She shook her head stubbornly. "I'm not a hero. I'm _not_."

She glanced up when she realized she'd said the words aloud. Lydia was watching her closely, as if she were privy to Irina's internal struggle and was waiting to see the outcome.

Irina cleared her throat and stood abruptly. "I'm going to call it a night," she informed. "I'll see you in the morning, Lydia."

Lydia remained seated, giving her a sad smile. "Sleep well, my Thane," she said softly.

The chances of that happening, however, were slim indeed.

—

**A/N:** Yeah, sorry that was so short. I hope you enjoyed it anyway. This chapter marks a turning point for both Brynjolf and Irina, as you can see. Things are going to start getting interesting now. Please review and subscribe! I love to hear what my readers have to say and your comments keep me inspired! Thank you to all who have subscribed and reviewed so far, you guys are the best. See you next chapter!


	13. Breaking a Hard Gem

**A/N:** Here's that bonus chapter I sort of promised you. Hope you all enjoy! Remember to drop me a review, I love hearing what my readers think!

—

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Breaking a Hard Gem**

—

After her long journey to Windhelm, Irina actually felt good coming home to Riften.

Home?

Had she actually just thought that? Did she consider Riften to be her home now? She supposed she did. It was a strange feeling. She hadn't called a place home in many years. Irina smiled to herself as she walked through the Riften gates and was met by the sight of the now familiar wood buildings and boardwalks. The strong scent of fish and brewing mead wafted by with the light breeze, and the sounds of the merchants hawking their wares in the market, along with the _clang clang clang_ of the blacksmith's hammer. All those things blended together to create a comforting feeling of familiarity to Irina. She had arrived in Riften less than a month ago, but already this place really did feel like home. That made her feel happier than she had in a long while.

As she and Lydia approached the bridge that crossed the canal to the Bee and Barb, Irina noticed Sapphire talking to a young Redguard man she recognized to be Riften's stable boy, Shadr.

As Irina drew close she could overhear their conversation and it was not a friendly one.

"I'm really getting tired of your excuses," Sapphire was saying. "When you borrowed the money you said you'd pay it back on time and for double the usual fee."

"I know I did," Shadr replied. "But how was I supposed to know the shipment would get robbed?"

Sapphire smirked. "If you had kept your plans quieter nothing would have happened to it."

"What?" Shadr exclaimed. "Are you telling me _you_ robbed it? Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

Sapphire sighed and glanced around in a show of disinterest. "Look, Shadr. Last warning. Pay up or else." She fixed him with a hard glare. "All I care about is the gold. Everything else is your problem." With that, she left him standing on the bridge and headed to the inn.

Irina frowned after hearing that exchange. It sounded like Sapphire was double-crossing her clients. Irina wasn't well-versed in Guild ethics and procedure, but she had a feeling such activity would be frowned upon. Not to mention she felt sorry for Shadr. He was a nice boy who was trying to work his way toward owning his own stables one day. It was a shame he was getting himself in debt for it, and with the Guild no less.

Shadr sat down forlornly on a bench on the edge of the boardwalk and buried his face in his hands. Irina approached him.

"Shadr? Are you all right?" she asked softly.

"Huh?" He looked up at her in slight bewilderment, then recognition dawned. "I know you, don't I? I've seen you before."

"Yes, I'm Irina Coldstorm, remember you helped me get a carriage ride to Whiterun a couple weeks ago."

He held up a finger and nodded. "That's right, I remember now." He sighed. "It's just some personal trouble is all."

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Sapphire," Irina admitted.

He arched his eyebrows at her. "You know Sapphire?"

"She's…an acquaintance of mine," Irina allowed.

Shadr let out a deep breath. "Well, I owe her a great deal of money, and I think she cheated me. I don't' know what to do."

"I overheard that much," Irina said. "Can you tell me more? Maybe I can help you."

He looked surprised. "You'd…you'd do that for me?"

Irina shrugged and gave him a smile. "You helped me find a carriage. Consider this my way of thanking you."

"Well… all right. As you know, I've been trying to start my own stables. Well, I was able to work out a deal with the stables in Whiterun to buy me some of their tack and harnesses. I could afford the tack, but I couldn't afford the shipment, so I borrowed some gold from Sapphire to pay for it. But…the shipment got robbed before it even arrived." He sighed deeply. "Now Sapphire wants her money back, and if I don't pay her…I think she's going to kill me."

Irina nodded in understanding. "I see. I'll tell you what. You stay right here. I'll go talk to Sapphire, maybe I can get to her see reason."

"You will?" Shadr exclaimed in surprised relief. "Oh, thank you! If you could do that then I would truly be in your debt."

Irina waved him down, shaking her head. "You just wait here, I'll be back soon." She headed to the Bee and Barb, Lydia falling into step beside her.

"I thought you were done with charity," the other woman said.

Irina gave her a sideways glance. "Everything isn't about money, Lydia."

Lydia nodded once. "I'm glad you still think so."

They entered the inn and Irina spotted Sapphire leaning against the wall across from them.

"Go ahead and go get your room, Lydia. I'm going to have a chat with Sapphire before I head back to the Guild."

"As you will, my Thane," Lydia recited.

Once again Irina chose to ignore the formal title. She approached Sapphire, who looked at her with stone cold eyes.

"Yeah? What do you want?" she asked gruffly.

"I just wanted to talk to you about Shadr's debt," Irina replied, deciding to get right to the point.

Sapphire's eyes narrowed in warning. "Back off, this action's all mine. No room for anyone else in the Guild on this one."

"I'm not trying to get in on it," Irina said. "I wanted to ask you to drop the debt."

Sapphire snorted. "Why? I've already made a bunch of coin off his shipment, so anything else I squeeze out of him would be a bonus."

"So it _was_ you who robbed his shipment then. I may be wrong, but that doesn't sound like something Brynjolf or even Mercer would sanction."

Sapphire regarded her for a second. "Oh…I see what this is. You want me to cut you in or you'll rat me out to Brynjolf." She gave Irina a conspiratorial smile. "Tell you what. I'll give you a share right now if you forget the whole thing."

Irina arched an incredulous eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding me. You want me to be your accomplice in a rogue operation? I guess you believe in the phrase 'no honor among thieves.'" She turned to go. "I'm going to tell Brynjolf."

"Woah, woah, wait a minute," Sapphire said hastily as she reached out and rested her hand on Irina's arm. "Calm down. Let's just think about this for a moment."

Irina turned to face her again, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm waiting."

Sapphire rubbed her forehead and then sighed, cursing softly under her breath as she weighed her options. "Fine. You win. Tell Shadr he can forget the debt."

Irina smiled softly. "Thank you."

"Now leave me alone," Sapphire said, and she strode away, exiting through the south door.

Irina returned to Shadr who was anxiously waiting on the bridge. He was filled with relief to hear that his debt was cleared, and he insisted on rewarding her. He didn't have any money to offer her, however, so he told her that if she ever needed to rent a horse from the stables she could do so free of charge. She doubted she'd ever take him up on that offer, since she didn't ride. However, she didn't tell him that and thanked him anyway.

After that she headed down to the Cistern, her stomach reminding her that she hadn't eaten in several hours. Thrynn had just finished making an evening meal of beef stew for those who wanted any. Irina remembered Thrynn's cooking to be all right, so she dished herself a bowl and sat down to get caught up with everyone. Everyone that is except Niruin and Rune, since they had left on a job in Solitude while Irina was in Windhelm.

Thrynn, Cynric and Vipir were more than happy to keep her company, though. The conversation was a nice distraction from the inner turmoil she'd been experiencing since hearing that song in Windhelm. She was trying valiantly to forget all about it, and so any and all distractions were very welcome.

After an hour or so Irina noticed Sapphire enter the Cistern and head straight for the training room without greeting anyone.

"What's up with Sapphire anyway, does anyone know?" she asked. "Why is she so…unfriendly?"

"She hasn't been here very long," Cynric offered. "Just a couple months. No one really knows anything about her."

"She won't talk to anyone, that's why," Thrynn complained.

"She sure does like to play hard to get," Vipir agreed. "I aim to get her some day, though."

Thrynn chuckled. "Not if I get her first."

"Hey, I saw her first, I get her first," Vipir argued.

"Guys, really," Irina exclaimed. "She's not the last sweet roll on the table."

Vipir chuckled and wiggled his eyebrows. "Maybe not the last one, but she's definitely a sweet, sweet roll." Both he and Thrynn chuckled at that.

Irina sent them each a hard glare and they shut up. "You two better not talk about me like that behind my back," she warned as she stood up.

They mumbled incoherent replies with guilty expressions, and Irina rolled her eyes as she walked toward the training room, feeling their eyes on her the whole way.

Sapphire was practicing her lock picking skills on one of the various locked chests in the room that were just for that purpose. She only glanced briefly at Irina when she entered, not acknowledging her in any other way. Irina took a seat on a straw bale and watched her for a moment. She could tell Sapphire was having a hard time concentrating with her there, and finally she gave up with an annoyed sigh.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she demanded.

"I was just wondering what could have possibly happened to you to make you so angry at the world."

Sapphire sat back on her heels and sent Irina a glare. "Look, I don't really know you. I don't even really know anyone here. Why do you care anyway? It's not like we're family. This is a business."

Irina smiled softly. "Oh, I don't know. I like to think of it as a family _in_ business, together. Has a nicer ring to it, don't you think?"

Sapphire rolled her eyes. "Look, you want to know about me? All right, I'll tell you." She stood up and faced Irina, her brow furrowed in anger. "I'll tell you about the time I was a young girl, barely out of her teens, living on a pig farm in the middle of nowhere. Didn't have a coin to spend between our entire family. Ate the same slop we fed our livestock."

Irina was somewhat surprised Sapphire was dumping this on her so readily, but she wasn't about to stop her. It was the most words she'd heard her speak in days. "Sounds like you had a rough childhood," she offered, trying to sympathize.

"Oh, wait… it gets much better," Sapphire sneered. "How about the fact that our farm was attacked by bandits, and that they killed my entire family who didn't even brandish a weapon against them."

Irina looked down at her hands. Things were starting to sound all too familiar now, and she no longer had to try to sympathize. She knew exactly how Sapphire felt.

"Here's the best part," the other woman said. She stared at the wall now as she spoke, her brow creased with pain and intense anger. "They took me as a prize, and violated me for a fortnight. Tossed me from bandit to bandit like…like…"

Irina held up her hand and nodded in understanding. "You don't have to continue," she said softly. That was much more information than she had expected to hear. Obviously it had been pent up inside for far too long and the dam just had to burst.

Sapphire's shoulders sagged and the anger washed from her expression, leaving only the pain. "It's fine…" she said, her voice strained. "I had to tell someone I suppose. Carrying around a weight like that… it hurts after a while. Cuts you inside like a dagger to the heart."

"I know what you mean," Irina said softly. "I suffer from a similar wound."

Sapphire frowned and looked at her. "You do?"

Irina nodded. "My family was killed by bandits, too. I watched it happen. But I guess I was luckier in that they never saw me and I was able to escape unharmed."

"I didn't know," Sapphire said, her superior tone vanishing.

"I don't usually tell people," Irina said, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "It's not easy to talk about, as I'm sure you know. But I guess it's even harder to keep it to yourself for so many years."

"I guess you're right," Sapphire offered. "I just never met anyone who cared enough to listen."

"But you have a whole guild full of people here who are more than willing to lend their ears."

Sapphire scoffed and sat down on a straw bale beside Irina's. "Most of them are worse than children. And the ones that aren't won't give me the time of day."

Irina could partially agree with that assessment, but she knew it wasn't entirely true. "I don't know. I've found Delvin and Rune to be wonderful listeners. Sometimes you just have to be willing to give people a chance."

"That doesn't come so easily for me," Sapphire admitted. "Ever since that day I've had a hard time trusting people."

"I suppose I can understand that," Irina offered. "So…how did you end up escaping the bandits?"

"Over time, I managed to gain their confidence." Her fists clenched as she spoke. "Then one night I grabbed a knife, waited until they fell asleep and cut their throats."

She said it with such a cold detachment it sent chills up Irina's spine, but it also hit uncomfortably close to home.

"I never returned to that pig farm," Sapphire continued. "There's nothing for me there. So that's it. That's my sad story. Blame me if you want, but I don't regret what I did."

Irina shook her head. "Trust me, I don't blame you. It's nothing less than what I did. I don't regret shooting and killing the bandits that slaughtered my family."

Sapphire glanced at her. "Then I guess we understand one another."

"You're not as alone as you think, Sapphire."

"Yeah, well." She shrugged as if that were inconsequential. "I guess things have been easier for you."

Irina frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"You can still laugh, you can still make friends. You still _care_ about those kinds of things. Obviously your experiences didn't kill you like mine killed me."

"Don't you think that's an unfair assessment, not knowing anything about my life after that?"

"I'm just judging by what I see in front of me," Sapphire explained. "You don't _look_ like a woman who's suffered an awful lot in her life. Unless you're very good at hiding it."

Irina felt a little annoyed that Sapphire would judge her so quickly without knowing anything about her. But she let it go, not wishing to argue. She simply told her how things were instead.

"Trust me, there was a time I really wanted to die. I had nothing left in the world, not even a roof over my head. I know I don't have to describe to you what that felt like. I was angry at the world just like you were, didn't trust anyone, didn't _want_ to trust anyone. I was a miserable, unhappy wreck."

Sapphire frowned. "Then what happened to change that? You don't seem that way now."

"I recently came to a sort of crossroads in my life. More like a cliff, I guess…an awakening. It changed the way I think about life."

"What happened?" Sapphire asked.

Irina sighed and absently played with a piece of straw. "I faced the headsman's block and realized with sudden, infinite clarity that I really _didn't_ want to die. I didn't want my parents' deaths, my brother's death, to be in vain. They would have wanted me to live. Having that choice forcibly yanked away…well, it woke me up. I can't say it's all rainbows and sunshine now, but it is easier."

Silence descended for a moment before Sapphire spoke again. "How did you survive the headsman's block?"

Irina gave her a soft smile. "That's a very long story, for another day. Maybe I'll tell you sometime."

Sapphire nodded. "Fair enough." Another extended silence followed, and then she looked at Irina. "Thanks. For listening."

Irina smiled. "Don't mention it."


	14. Truth and Resolution

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Truth and Resolution**

**—**

Irina examined her sword as she left the training room after an hour of practice with her blade. She had grown a little rusty from lack of regular practice and she aimed to remedy that. She wasn't the only one growing a little rusty, though. Her sword could use a good sharpening, so she crossed the Cistern to the small armory where she hoped one of the men could help her. She could fletch an arrow like a pro, but if she tried sharpening a blade she'd probably grind the whole thing down to a toothpick. She just didn't have the mind for metal working in any form.

She noticed Cynric standing at Mercer Frey's desk engaged in a slightly heated conversation with the Guildmaster. She couldn't help but overhear, since the armory was situated so close to Mercer's office.

"I don't do jailbreaking anymore," Cynric was saying.

"You will this time," Mercer replied firmly. "My friend specifically requested you."

"I don't do requests. The last time I attempted a jail break I got caught and spent three years in prison. I'm not doing that again."

Mercer smirked. "Then don't get caught."

"Damn it, Mercer," Cynric exclaimed through gritted teeth. "I'm not for hire as a jailbreaker."

Mercer folded his arms across his chest, and Irina could see the flash of his gray eyes even from a distance. "I'm sorry, I was under the impression you worked for me. That means if I say you're doing a jail break, then that's what you're doing. Is there anything about that you don't understand?"

Cynric balled his fists and shook his head. "No, sir."

"Good. Head to Markarth first thing in the morning. And don't get yourself mixed up in all that Foresworn business. My friend wants a clean and simple escape, no shenanigans."

Cynric blew a breath out through his nose and turned to leave without another word. Mercer didn't require more words, only obedience.

Irina gave Cynric a sympathetic smile as he walked past her. He only shook his head in irritation, not in the mood for pleasantries.

"You, new girl, come over here."

The voice reached inside Irina's chest and gripped her heart, and for a moment she froze, suddenly feeling cornered. Was she in trouble? Mercer hadn't spoken a word to her since her initiation. He had barely even _looked_ at her since then. What could he possibly want with her now? She turned to face him and her feet walked her over to his desk.

He tossed a coin purse at her and she barely stopped it from hitting her in the face. "That's from Maven," he announced. "Seems she was impressed with your work at Honningbrew Meadery."

Irina hefted the bag of coins lightly. "That's good to hear."

"I, however, am not," he added flatly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Honningbrew was an easy job, anyone could have done it. It proves nothing to me of your skill."

"It was the job I was given," Irina replied. "Didn't I already prove myself to you with Goldenglow?"

He snorted softly. "Goldenglow was a mess. Not only were you discovered, but you were injured on the job, you could have been killed." There was no hint of concern in his tone, only distain.

"Seems to me I got the job done regardless," Irina argued. "That's more than Vex can say. I never claimed to be better at this anyone else here."

"Brynjolf seems to think you're something special, but you have yet to prove it to me. You're weak, and you're skill set is horribly lacking."

"I'm good at what I do," Irina defended, not sure what he wanted from her.

He gestured vaguely at her. "Your locking picking is mediocre, your pickpocketing is a disgrace. You swing that sword like a club."

Irina frowned in astonishment. "You expect me to be good at everything?"

"You want to survive in this business?" he demanded. "This is a brutal and unforgiving job. You can go kill yourself however you like in your own time, but when you're on my watch you had better come back alive."

The deadly look in Mercer's eyes made her think twice about arguing further, so she clenched her jaw to keep back a smart remark.

"From now on you're in training," the Guildmaster announced. "You'll be receiving petty jobs with low pay until you can prove to me you're worth my time."

Irina felt heat rush up the back of her neck. "What kind of training am I supposed to be doing?"

"Pickpocket lessons with Vipir or Delvin. Vex will help you perfect your lock picking skills." He pointed to her dull sword. "Thrynn will teach you how to use that. You may be good with a bow, but even an expert marksman should be just as good with a blade."

"I just spent an hour training with my sword," Irina informed.

He smirked. "Against what? A sack dummy? You need to face a real opponent, someone who can challenge you. So unless you want fight me, I suggest you go find Thrynn. I want you in the training room every day until I say otherwise. Is all of that clear to you?"

Irina let out a forceful sigh. "Yes."

"That's 'yes, Master Frey.'"

"Yes, Master Frey," she repeated through gritted teeth.

"Now get going." He turned his attention to the papers on his desk, effectively dismissing her.

Irina spun around and headed back to the training room. She noticed Brynjolf sitting on the edge of the pool nearby. He had probably heard that whole thing. He called out to her as she passed by him but she didn't slow her step. What could Brynjolf possibly say to make this situation better? He was the reason she was here! He was the reason everyone had such high expectations of her. He was the reason she would probably never truly fit in.

The training room was empty when she entered. She smacked her sword against one of the sack dummies a couple times in frustration. She was not looking forward to days of training, especially with Vex. Luckily she was already decent with lockpicking, so maybe time with Vex could be limited.

Irina sensed someone step into the room behind her and the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She did _not_ want to see him right now.

"Lass, what's got you so upset?" Brynjolf asked.

She snorted. "Don't tell me you didn't hear any of that out there."

"I did, but that doesn't answer my question. We've all needed training at some point in our careers."

"It's not about the training, Brynjolf!" She turned to face him. "It's about Mercer and his expectations of me. Expectations he has only because _you_ led him to believe I'm the best there is!" She was making no effort to keep her voice down by now. The last two weeks of silence between her and Brynjolf had worn her thin and she had no patience left. Now here he was wanting to talk to her again, out of the blue, like nothing had ever happened between them? His audacity made her that much more angry.

"I never said you're the best there is," Brynjolf countered. "Believe me, I know better."

"Then what is this all about?" she demanded, taking a few steps closer to him. "Why does everyone here look at me like I'm some sort of savior? Why is Mercer so disappointed with my best efforts, efforts that were far better than others in the Guild?"

"Lass, I think you should try to calm down," Brynjolf advised, keeping his voice calm and even.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Irina exclaimed, gesturing at him with her sword. "I have every reason to be upset. And what do you care anyway? You haven't bothered to speak two words to me in fortnight after humiliating me in the middle of the marketplace!"

He moved toward her, hands held up in a gesture of peace. "Easy, lass. Why don't you put that sword away before someone gets hurt? We can talk about this." He was now standing within arm's reach of her, and before she had a chance to react, he grabbed the wrist of her sword hand and twisted her arm, forcing her to turn away from him. He pulled her back against him, holding her tight. He squeezed her wrist with near crushing force and her sword clattered to the stone floor.

"I do care," he said in a near whisper, his breath hot against her ear. He smelled of leather and mead and something sweet she couldn't place. It was a warming combination of scents; familiar and strangely comforting.

She struggled against him but he held her tight. "You have a funny way of showing it," she gritted.

Abruptly he released her and she spun around to face him, giving him a hard slap across the face. The sting in her hand felt good, but the look of surprise on his face made her feel even better. She raised her fists in a defensive stance, ready for a counter strike.

But none came.

Brynjolf rubbed his jaw, smiling slightly. "All right, I suppose I deserved that," he admitted.

"You're damn right you did." Irina lowered her guard slightly as she watched him. He rubbed his jaw again and then sat down on a straw bale, sighing deeply.

He looked up at her and the expression on his face was not angry or mocking, or even amused. It was sincere and ernest. "I guess we've been acting a wee bit childish."

"I thought stupid was a better way to describe it," Irina offered.

"Aye, that works, too."

Irina picked up her sword and slid it into its sheath. Then she sat down on the end of the straw bale beside Brynjolf, their shoulders touching. "What do you see in me, Brynjolf?" she asked softly. "What do you see that Mercer can't—that _I_ can't?"

Brynjolf scratched the stubble on his jaw as he considered her question. "It was nothing I saw, per se," he admitted. "It was more of a feeling, deep in my gut. I've learned to trust my gut over the years; it's usually right."

"But what kind of feeling was it?" Irina persisted.

He sighed softly. "It's a bit hard to put into words, lass. I just knew, the moment I saw you, that you were important to the Guild, that you would be in our future. I don't know the hows or the whys."

Irina considered that. "I wish Mercer shared your feelings."

Brynjolf waved that away. "Don't worry about what Mercer thinks. He's impressed by very few."

"Himself being one of those few."

Brynjolf chuckled but didn't comment on that.

"And you," Irina added. "I think he's impressed with you."

"Impressed? I wouldn't go that far. But I think he respects me, and that only after years of training and experience and proving myself. You'll get there one day, lass, if you really want to."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see. I don't really care about being the best. I just want him to think I'm good enough for the bigger jobs. Looks like I have a lot of training ahead of me. I've never been very good with a sword. It's always just been a last resort; my bow is usually good enough."

"Several of us prefer the bow," Brynjolf said. "But they're all experts with the blade, too. A word of advice, though. Don't ever accept a challenge to fight Mercer."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't spar, he fights for blood, and he could easily kill every one of us here if he wanted to. You would be very foolish to cross blades with Mercer Frey."

"I'll keep that in mind," Irina said, mentally checking off another point on her list of reasons to be nervous around the Guild Master.

A moment of silence fell between them, and Irina was pleased to notice it was a comfortable silence. Sitting so close to him she could smell that sweet scent again and her curiosity got the better of her. She leaned in and inhaled deeply close to his neck.

He pulled back a little with an amused smirk. "What are you doing, lass?"

"You have this sweet smell about you, what is that?"

"Oh." He blew a short laugh through his nose and dug his fingers into one of the pouches on his shoulder belt, pulling out a small wrapped packet. He handed it to her. "Sweet taffy," he informed. "It's sort of an addiction of mine."

Irina chuckled as she opened the paper wrapping. "I haven't had one of these in years." She chewed on the end of the candy string and close her eyes, her senses overwhelmed by the taste. "Oh, that sure brings back memories," she said nostalgically.

"Pleasant ones I take it," Brynjolf observed.

Irina nodded and gave him a smile of thanks. Then she bowed her head slightly as a nervous tremble coursed through her. "I…guess I owe you some answers," she said softly.

"Answers, lass?"

"Yes, you know, to all those questions you asked before."

"Oh, well, if you want to," Brynjolf said with a shrug.

"Are you still going to try to tell me you're not curious?"

"No. I will admit I am curious. But I'm not going to interrogate you, lass. If you want to tell me something go right ahead."

Irina laughed nervously. Why was she so nervous? "It's just… I've never been very good at talking about myself. If someone asks me about something specific I usually don't mind sharing. I'm just not good at offering up information out of the blue, you know?"

"I understand where you're coming from, lass; I'm the same way. But in this line of work that can be a benefit. Wagging tongues make poor thieves."

"I suppose so."

"All right, lass," Brynjolf said with a slight smirk. "I'll ask you one question, and you may feel free to answer or not."

She snickered at the game it had turned into, but she gestured for him to continue.

"So, who exactly is Lydia anyway?" he asked. "Why does she call you Thane?"

Irina smiled as a blush colored her cheeks. "Isn't that technically two questions?"

"I have feeling they have the same answer. But if you want to get technical about it, answer the second one. Why does she call you Thane?"

"Because I am one?" she said softly.

"You're a thane? As in…of a city?" Brynjolf asked, incredulous.

Irina only nodded. She hated admitting it.

"Which city?" he asked.

"Whiterun."

Brynjolf gaped at her for a moment. "_You're_ the Thane of Whiterun?"

She nodded. "Lydia is my housecarl."

He continued to stare at her, lips parted slightly in continued disbelief. "How in Shor's Hall did you become Thane of Whiterun?"

Irina chuckled mirthlessly. "It's kind of a long story."

Brynjolf shifted position so he was facing her, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm listening."

Irina sighed in resignation. She had started this after all. "I was pretty much in the wrong place at the wrong time. You heard about that dragon that attacked Whiterun a few months ago, didn't you?"

"I did hear something about that, yes."

"Yes, well, I was there at the time. Some of the Jarl's men went out to slay it, and the Jarl ordered me to help them."

Brynjolf laughed shortly. "Why would he do that?"

Irina shrugged. "I've wondered that often myself. I guess he thought I had some sort of experience."

"Did you?" Brynjolf ask with an arched eyebrow.

"Absolutely not!" Irina exclaimed softly. "I've never killed a dragon before in my life."

Brynjolf frowned. "Then why would he think you had experience?"

She sighed and pulled a tuft of straw from the bale they were sitting on. "I was at Helgen," she said softly. "I was one of the few who made it out alive."

"Sweet Divines, lass," Brynjolf breathed. "I didn't know."

"It's not something I like to talk about, to remember," Irina admitted.

"I can imagine. So because you survived Helgen the Jarl thought you must know a thing or two about dragons."

"I suppose that's where he got the idea," she agreed. "But nothing could be further from the truth. I didn't fight that dragon at Helgen. I ran out of there as fast as I could and never looked back. I guess you can go ahead and call me a coward. I won't argue with you."

Brynjolf shook his head. "I wouldn't call you a coward, lass. I'd call you smart. You'd likely not be here today if you'd stayed to fight."

"You really think so?" Irina asked, looking up at him.

He nodded. "But that still doesn't explain how you got to be the Thane of Whiterun."

Irina shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. I guess the Jarl thought I helped a lot more than I actually did. I went with the soldiers to fight the dragon because I was told to do so, and even shot a couple arrows at it. I wasn't the one who brought it down, though. If anyone should have been made Thane it should have been the Jarl's housecarl. She was braver than any man there."

"So he made you Thane as a way to thank you for your perceived service," Brynjolf concluded.

"Basically," Irina said with a nod. "I couldn't convince him I wasn't worthy. He assigned Lydia as my personal housecarl even though I didn't own a house, nor did I really want the company. I was a thief, living on the streets most of the time, I didn't need someone tagging along. Her constant presence and my new title compelled me to go straight and stop stealing. Lydia and I made a living traveling Skyrim, taking mercenary jobs from the Jarls. That's actually why I was in Riften that day you met me. I was coming to talk to the Jarl about possible work in the hold."

Brynjolf smiled. "Seems like my offer was more appealing to you."

She returned his smile. "I never did go see the Jarl after talking to you."

"Larceny's been in your blood for too long, lass. It's not so easy to walk away is it?"

"I suppose not." She sighed. "Anyway, that's my story." It wasn't her whole story, of course. But she wasn't ready to tell him the rest, and likely never would. It was a part of her she didn't want to be true, a part of her she wanted to escape. The only way she could do that was through denial and forgetting.

"I appreciate you telling me, lass. Even though it's not my business."

She shrugged one shoulder. "It's not like it was a secret or anything. I just…never brought it up because I hate it and would rather forget."

"Understandable," Brynjolf said with a short laugh. "I'd probably commit murder if I had to be a thane of anything."

Irina giggled at that, trying to imagine Brynjolf as an upstanding hero of the people. The image had some trouble forming in her mind.

"So are we going to play this game to its end?" she asked. "I had my turn. Shouldn't it now be yours?"

Brynjolf arched one eyebrow at her. "What could you possibly want to know about me that isn't already obvious?"

"Well, I was just curious. I've had this sense that you and Vex were once a couple. Am I wrong?"

Brynjolf looked down at his hands as he played with a piece of straw. "You're either very observant, lass, or it's more obvious than I thought."

Irina shrugged slightly. "You just look at her differently I guess. Your voice changes slightly when you talk to her. I can tell you care about her. I was just curious how deep those feelings went, and are they reciprocated? Of course," she added softly, "you can just tell me to shut up and mind my own business if you want, but…we are playing the game…so I thought I'd ask."

Brynjolf nodded. "Yes, Vex and I were together once. But it's been over for a long time. Do I still care about her? Yes, of course I do. You don't stop caring about someone just because you can't be with them any longer."

"Why can't you? What happened?" Irina asked.

He blew out a tense breath and then laughed in an effort to release the tension. It didn't really work.

"Look, you don't have tell me," Irina assured. "I see I've gotten too nosy again. Forget it."

"It's all right, lass. Let's just say that in our line of work it's not easy to maintain a long term relationship. It's best to not even try."

Irina frowned. "I may come off as sounding cliche, but don't you think true love can make the best of any situation?"

He scoffed. "True love is a sham, lass. There's no such thing. In the end, the only one you can really trust is yourself."

"That's a bit of a cynical attitude toward life, don't you think?"

"It's a practical attitude. You'll soon come to realize that in this line work. Thieves can't afford to completely trust anyone. And true love can't thrive without complete trust. It's that simple."

Irina bowed her head, her mood becoming thoughtful. "I suppose you do make some sort of point," she admitted. "But it's a sad one."

"Maybe so," Brynjolf agreed. "But it is what it is."

Irina drew a deep breath and then cleared her throat. She looked over at him and gave him a weak smile. "Well, I guess we're even now. Silence broken, personal information shared. Shall we call it a truce?"

He chuckled and nodded. "Aye, a truce." Then he patted her lightly on the knee as he stood up. "I've some things I need to go do, but we'll talk again another time, lass. This was…this was good."

"Thank you, Brynjolf. For talking me down. I guess I let my temper get the better of me."

A smile spread his lips as he reached out and gently tugged on a lock of hair that fell across her cheek, the backs of his fingers brushing her skin lightly. "Red hair will do that to a person," he said. "Trust me, I know." Then he gave her a wink and turned and walked from the room, leaving Irina with a pounding heart and a tremble in her hands.

—

**A/N:** Hope you all enjoyed reading that as much as I did writing it! Please let me hear from you, I love reading your reviews! Thank you to everyone who's reviewed and subscribed already. You guys, as always, make my day!


	15. Mating Rituals

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Mating Rituals**

—

"All right, so here's what we're going to do today," Vipir said as he pushed the sleeves of a coat onto the arms of one of the sack dummies in the training room. The coat made a jingling sound as if the pockets were full of tiny bells. When he was finished he motioned Irina over to take a look, and she saw that her guess had not been far off. One of the large pockets was lined inside and out with sewn-on little jingle bells.

Irina chuckled at the sight. "That's quite a fashion statement. Not really your style, though, Vipir."

"Very funny," he replied drily. "This is a training device I invented a few years back. Works like a charm. Only a good pickpocket can stick his hand in there without sounding one of those bells."

"So if a bell sounds it means the person I was trying to pickpocket felt me," Irina said, catching on.

"You got it. Now go ahead and give it a try. I put a small purse of gold in there. If you can take it without ringing any bells, you can keep it."

"Ooh, incentive," Irina replied with a smirk.

She moved into position beside the dummy, and slowly inserted her hand into the pocket. Immediately several bells jingled. She jerked her hand back as if it had been burnt and looked at Vipir.

"Are you sure this isn't some kind of joke? It is actually possible to take that purse out of there without a sound? You're not going to laugh about this behind my back with the guys, right?"

Vipir laughed with mock insult. "What makes you think I would ever do such a thing? You wound me."

"I will if I find out this isn't an honest lesson."

"Trust me, Irina," he assured with his best soothing tone. "I have nothing but the best of intentions here. Mercer ordered me to give you pickpocket training. You think I'd mess with Mercer's orders?"

"I suppose not. All right then. Consider yourself warned, though." She gave him a friendly smirk to take the seriousness out of her words.

"Try it again," he encouraged, gesturing to the rigged coat pocket.

Irina made another attempt, then another, and another. She couldn't even insert her hand into the pocket without sounding a bell, let alone pulling the coin purse out. That was discouraging and she wondered if it wouldn't in fact be easer to pick a pocket on an actual person.

Irina heard foot steps enter the room and she glanced over her shoulder at Sapphire.

"Well hello there," the other woman said, giving Irina a genuine smile.

Since their talk several days ago, the two had become fast friends. They spent a girls' night out on the town one evening, and even did a small job together in Riften. Irina was relieved to finally have a girl friend in the Guild. As much as she enjoyed the company of her male associates, she could relate better with Sapphire. The two of them shared similar life experiences, and they were both fairly new members in the group, still trying to prove their worth to the guildmaster.

Vipir grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Well, hello to you, too, Sapphire," he said, attempting to sound dashing.

Sapphire's smile dissolved into a scowl. "I wasn't talking to you, oaf."

Irina snickered at Vipir's crestfallen look. "How'd that job for Delvin go last night?" she asked Sapphire.

"It went well," the woman replied. "He let me keep the necklace I took." She pulled a pendant out of the neck of her shirt and showed it to Irina. It was silver with four tiny sapphires set in a diamond pattern. "He said it must have been made just for me and it wouldn't be right for him to take it."

"Ooh, pretty," Irina said with a smile of admiration. "Delvin's such a sweetheart."

Vipir snorted. "Delvin's a cad. He woos all the woman with words and gifts, but you know his intentions are never honorable."

Sapphire laughed indignantly. "And your's are? You don't even try to come off as a gentleman. Women don't appreciate being called stupid cows, you know?"

Irina gaped at Vipir in astonishment. "You called her that?"

Vipir spread his hands in a careless gesture. "She keeps turning me down. She seriously doesn't know what she's missing."

The two woman looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Vipir looked at them askance. "What's so funny?" he demanded, which prompted them to just laugh harder. He shook his head. "Women, you're all the same. None of you make any sense. If you know the man is only trying to get you into bed, what does it matter how he gets you there?" They laughed some more and Vipir waved his hand in an irritated dismissing gesture. "Irina, you're supposed to be picking that pocket."

Irina got her laughter under control and hooked an affectionate arm around Vipir's neck. "Vipir, women like feeling special. It's as simple as that. We like to feel as if we mean everything to the man we're with, regardless of whether or not it's true. We like gifts and flattery and gestures of affection. No woman ever appreciates being treated like livestock."

Vipir stared at her for a moment and then turned his face to the ceiling and spread his arms dramatically. "Why does it have to be so complicated?" he exclaimed. "All I want to do is sleep with a woman and she wants to act like we're sweethearts first."

Irina slapped Vipir on the back. "Congratulations, you summed it up perfectly. Now just try not to ever ignore that last part and you might actually get somewhere one day." She gestured to her friend. "Offer to take Sapphire to dinner one night."

He arched an incredulous eyebrow. "Would that even work?"

"It might," Sapphire admitted. "If you kept your hands to yourself."

"Then what's the point?" Vipir demanded.

The two women exchanged a weary glance and Irina sighed. "Vipir, I suggest you hook up with Haelga over at the bunkhouse. She's not as…particular about the kind of men she spends time with."

"And what makes you think I haven't already done that?"

Irina smiled and held up her hands. "Well, I rest my case then. Maybe get a few tips from Delvin."

Just then Thrynn walked into the room. "Irina, you about done? I've got a job I got to go do, I'd like to get our lesson over with first."

Irina waved him into the room. "Thrynn, you've been with a lot of women, right?"

He blinked at her and then arched one eyebrow. "Am I missing something?"

"We're trying to give Vipir tips on how to woo women. I heard you've had your fair share."

"I suppose I have," he allowed. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm not giving Vipir dating tips. He's not a stranger to female company."

Sapphire snorted. "Only because he has the gold to pay for it."

"Ooh." Irina could feel the sting of those words even though they weren't directed at her. She glanced at Vipir and saw a flicker of hurt cross his face. Was he more serious than he let on about winning Sapphire's affection? An awkward silence fell.

"Well, I see I walked in here at the wrong moment," Thrynn remarked. "Irina, when you're ready, meet me at the north gate. I want to do the lesson on rough terrain." With that he turned and left the room.

"I'll let you get back to your training," Sapphire said to Irina. "Don't want to hold you up." She gave her a smile and then hurried after Thrynn.

Irina glanced at Vipir, furrowing her brow slightly. "You don't actually have real feelings for Sapphire, do you?"

He shook his head in defeat. "What does it matter? She doesn't care about me."

Irina regarded him for a moment, seeing a vulnerable side to him show through a little. It surprised her, but it made her smile. "Maybe there's hope for you yet," she murmured, half to herself. "Try caring about her first, Vipir. She may surprise you." She gave him a brief, one-armed hug and then patted him on the back. "I should go find Thrynn. I don't want to make him wait."

"Good luck with your lesson, Irina," he said softly.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

Brynjolf tilted his face to the blue sky as he walked along a dock on Riften's waterfront. The day was crisp, but unusually warm for the time of year. It would probably be the last nice weather before winter decided to hit. He was beginning to feel restless. He hadn't done a job in a couple months, too busy with his stall in the market. Maybe it was time to take a break and leave town for a while, have a change of pace and get some fresh air.

He spotted Maul leaning against the wall of the fishery and he headed toward him.

The big man nodded to him on his approach. "Brynjolf," he greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"Mercer's missing a courier," the thief replied. "He was delivering valuable information. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Maul considered. "A courier was jailed a couple days ago. The guards out at Shor's Stone nabbed him."

"On what charges?" Brynjolf asked with a frown.

"Assault. The guards thought he looked suspicious, so they stopped him. I guess the guy panicked, one thing led to another, and now he's in jail."

Brynjolf shook his head. "The idiot. Do you know what happened to the message he was carrying?"

"All his things were confiscated up at Shor's Stone. It's likely still there. I heard something about them wanting to investigate the source."

"Now that won't do," Brynjolf said. "Would you mind passing that information to Maven for me? That courier was ours."

"Will do," Maul assured. "You want me to get ahold of that message for you?"

"I'll handle it, thanks, Maul." Brynjolf left without further pleasantries, walking back the way he came. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and glanced out at the shore of the lake to the north. He saw two of his own there, sparring among the rocks by the water.

Brynjolf moved to the north end of the dock and leaned his elbows on the rail to watch. He realized it was Thrynn and Irina, probably in the middle of one of Irina's compulsory lessons. At the moment Thrynn was trying to show the lass the proper way to hold her sword and what to do with her feet. It was their first lesson and it looked like they were starting from the beginning. Brynjolf had never seen Irina use her sword, but Thrynn must have got the impression that she had been improvising on adrenaline all this time and had never possessed any real skill with the blade. As Brynjolf watched he could see why Thrynn might think that. She held the blade as if it weighed twice as much as it did, and when she swung it she was thrown off balance.

Irina was small for a Nord, and next to Thrynn she looked tiny. Maybe a sword was too much for her. Brynjolf pulled one of his daggers from its sheath and admired the elegant ebony design. He had always preferred daggers over swords. He found they fit his lifestyle better. Easier to conceal, less likely to knock into something while sneaking through a house on the job. Not nearly as heavy.

His mind wandered for a moment, thinking about his own training from Mercer all those years ago. A lifetime ago. Mercer had been a good if not patient instructor. Brynjolf owed much of his considerable skill to his guildmaster.

After a while he glanced up at the figures on the shore. His eyes were immediately drawn to Thrynn's hand, which rested lightly on the small of Irina's back as he gave her instruction. She either didn't notice his forwardness or didn't mind. Brynjolf, however, did. A jealous knot began to tie itself in his stomach, and his lips set firmly into a frown. Even if Irina wasn't interested in her tutor romantically, Brynjolf knew Thrynn. The man was subtle, and could get a woman into his bed before she even realized what had happened. Irina was already very close to being another one of his many conquests.

Anxiety settled in Brynjolf's stomach like acid. He wanted to rush over there and prevent whatever might happen between those two, but his feet remained firmly planted on the wood of the dock. He had no excuse to separate them at the moment, and even if he did, there was always their next lesson, and the one after that. He couldn't disregard Mercer's orders and tell Thrynn to stop his lessons with Irina.

Brynjolf shook his head abruptly. "By the Eight, what am I even thinking about?" he muttered to himself. This was _not_ happening to him. Irina was not the first woman he had been attracted to since Vex, and Vex was not the last woman he had ever been with. But Irina was the first he had trouble getting out of his mind, and the first he worried about when he wasn't with her. Those were two facts that proved his feelings went beyond the physical, and that was why he had to stay away.

Maybe Irina was destined to be with Thrynn for a while, and maybe even Vipir, or Rune for that matter. Brynjolf clenched his teeth at the thought of her with any man but himself. He put a hand on each side of his head and turned away, quickly striding across the dock and back toward the city.

—

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter was so short. As per my custom when I have a short chapter, I will try to post another one before the weekend is over to make up for it. Hope you all enjoy it. Let me know what you thought! :)


	16. Honeyed Words

**A/N:** As promised, the bonus chapter! Hope you all enjoy. See you next week!

—

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Honeyed Words**

—

"Thank you, Thrynn," Irina said as they approached the north gate of Riften on their way back from their first lesson together. "I appreciate your efforts to teach me, even though I'm not a very good student."

"Irina, you're a perfect student," he assured her. "You just have a few physical limitations is all."

She sighed. "Yeah. Somehow I doubt Mercer will let me use that excuse, though."

Just then a figure detached from the wall of the stable and walked toward them, a smile on his face.

"Brynjolf," Irina said in surprise, realizing this was the first time she had ever seen him outside the city.

"Hello there, lass," he said. "How go the lessons?"

Irina groaned and glanced at Thrynn. "Not so great, I'm afraid. Turns out I really don't know what I'm doing." She laughed mirthlessly.

Thrynn gripped Irina's shoulder lightly in a gesture of encouragement. "You'll get better with regular practice."

"He's right," Brynjolf agreed. "You've had only one lesson, so don't get discouraged yet, lass."

"The fact that I have to do these lessons at all is what's discouraging. And now it's off to find Vex for lockpicking training."

Brynjolf held up his hand. "Actually, lass, I've got a small job I'd like you to do first."

"What sort of job?"

"Just a quick trip down to Shor's Stone to get something there that belongs to us. It's more of an errand really."

"All right," Irina agreed.

"I'll see you later, Irina," Thrynn said, and with a wave he jogged to the city gate and disappeared inside.

Irina turned back to Brynjolf. "What will I be doing in Shore's Stone?"

"Retrieving a letter addressed to Mercer that was taken from one of our couriers. It will probably be in an evidence chest in the watch tower. You might have to sneak past a few guards, but I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle."

"Why don't you come with me?" Irina offered.

He arched his eyebrows in surprise. "Go with you? I don't know, lass, I've got a lot of things to do. Maybe some other time."

Irina reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging on it lightly. "Oh, come on. It's just to Shor's Stone. This will take what? Two hours at the most? You'll have plenty of time left to do whatever else you planned to do today. Please? I'd really enjoy the company."

Brynjolf looked down at her hand gripping his, and he stared at it for a moment or two, a strange expression on his face that Irina couldn't identify. Finally he looked up at her, a slight smile curving his lips. "Well, I suppose I can't say no to that."

Irina grinned and dropped his hand, and they began walking down the road.

"So what's the trouble you're having with your sword, lass?" he asked her after a moment.

"Well, I never had any formal training. I pretty much taught myself, which isn't saying much." She rested her hand on the hilt of the sword at her hip. "This sword isn't special. I just swiped it on my out of Helgen, and I only took it for self defense. I don't use it very often. Thrynn said it's too big for me and I should get a different one."

"You should listen to him, he knows what he's talking about," Brynjolf agreed. He gestured to her sword. "Iron's not the best material for a weapon anyway. It wears out faster and gets rusty." He drew one of his black daggers from its sheath. "This is ebony, a much higher quality blade. Heavier, but a lot stronger. You'd never manage to wield an ebony sword effectively, but a dagger…" He grinned and held the blade out to her hilt first.

Irina took it, hefting it in her hand, feeling the weight of it. It was quite heavy for a dagger, but not uncomfortably so. Its size probably had a lot to do with its weight; it was nearly three times longer than her large hunting knife. She thought the dramatic tapering of the slightly curved blade and fancy etchings were very pretty.

"It's a beautiful weapon," she said, and then handed it back to him.

Brynjolf shook his head. "Keep it for a while. Try it out, see how you like using it. Maybe the solution you need is switching to a dagger."

Irina frowned slightly in concern. "It's just so…short. Could it really be as effective as a sword?"

"If you wield it right, yes. Also, having one in each hand gives you a significant advantage." He drew his second dagger and handed it to her.

Irina took one dagger in each hand, gripping them uncertainly. She gave a nervous little chuckle and look up at Brynjolf. "I wouldn't know what to do with two of them."

"Well that's where the training comes in, lass," Brynjolf replied with a smile. "If you're going to spend time training with the blade, you might as well do it with the right one and save yourself a headache."

"I suppose you're right," Irina mused. "I'll have to keep my eye out for a couple affordable daggers then," she added with a laugh.

Brynjolf gestured to the ones he gave her. "Take those ones."

Irina arched her eyebrows in surprise. "Take them? You mean to keep? But these are yours."

"I have resources for acquiring others," he assured her. "Go on and keep them. Consider it an early one month anniversary gift."

Irina's jaw dropped. "One month? You mean since I joined the Guild?"

"Aye," Brynjolf said with a nod. "Only a few more days."

"By the Nine, I can't believe it's already been that long. The time just flew by."

"Do you feel it was time well-spent, lass?"

"Absolutely, Brynjolf," she said, giving him a quick grin. "I don't regret joining in the slightest."

He returned her grin. "I'm glad to hear that."

"So, the Guild gives out anniversary gifts, eh?" she commented with a wry smile.

Brynjolf laughed and shook his head. "Not usually. I just felt like it this time, lass. You deserve it."

"I'm honored, Brynjolf, really." She looked up at him with a sincere smile. "Thank you."

He glanced at her and she thought she saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He reached out and gripped her shoulder lightly, giving her a warm smile. "You're welcome, lass," he replied softly.

Butterflies fluttered in Irina's stomach unexpectedly as she felt heat radiate from his hand. Her cheeks flushed and she stared at the ground in front of her, unable to wipe the bashful grin from her face. It was such an onslaught of feelings that she didn't know what to do with them or what to think. Brynjolf removed his hand from her shoulder and they walked on in slightly awkward silence for a while.

Irina glanced up at his profile, wondering what he was thinking. The memory of his hand on her shoulder was vivid, as if he had never removed it, and she caught herself wishing he hadn't. A gentle gust of chilly wind blew the hair back from his face, showing clearly the scar marring his cheek. She had a sudden, unexplainable urge to brush her fingers across it, which made her blush again and glance quickly away.

Divines, what was wrong with her? She was acting like a silly little girl with a crush on the boy across the street. She wasn't developing feelings for Brynjolf, was she? No, of course she wasn't. Brynjolf was her boss, and that was that. True, he was a handsome man with a gentle, lilting voice that set her at ease whenever he spoke. But he was still her boss. His emerald eyes that sparkled in the sunlight held her attention whenever she looked at them. But that was only because he was her boss and it was her job to pay attention to everything he said. She had no business even thinking she felt anything for him but companionship. Besides, he had made it perfectly clear that their relationship was strictly professional and that it would always remain so.

Irina nodded resolutely. That was that. She might think him attractive for obvious reasons, but it was nothing more than that, and would remain her private secret.

"Something troubling you, lass?" he asked suddenly.

Could he read her so easily? She glanced up and gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile. "No, I'm fine. Why?"

"Because you looked troubled."

"Just… thinking," she allowed. "I have a lot to think about lately. I'm fine, though."

He nodded his acceptance of her explanation and they walked on in continued silence.

Once they reached Shor's Stone the awkwardness had mostly dissipated as they switched to talking about neutral things like various jobs, Riften, and even the weather. Before they knew it the Shor's guard tower was in sight. They took up position crouched behind a nearby hill to assess the situation and form a plan.

"Tell me what you see down there, lass," Brynjolf ordered, obviously wanting her to do the work so he could observe her skill in action.

Irina was eager to please. She scanned the area carefully, noting the positions of the guards and their number, attempting to notice any sort of predictability in their patrols.

"There are three guards patrolling the ground, and one in the top of the watch tower. Impossible to tell if there are more inside. It looks like if I sneak around the backside of the tower that's against the hill, I could get close enough to quickly slip inside when their backs are turned. After that everything would pretty much be on the fly, since there's no telling how many more of them there are inside. Do you have any idea where this evidence box might be?"

Brynjolf nodded. "Aye. The last time I was in there they had it against the far corner under the stairs." He smiled his approval. "Good work, lass, now get on down there and get that letter. I've got your back if anything goes wrong."

Irina returned his smile, grateful for his support, even on such a simple job. She slunk back behind the hill and made her way around until she was behind the watch tower. The hill on the back side was steep, and she had to be careful not to knock any loose rocks down and give away her position.

Finally she crouched by the corner of the tower and watched two of the guards patrolling out near the road. She couldn't see the third guard anywhere. Perhaps he had gone farther down the road, in which case he would not see her either.

As soon as both the guards weren't looking in her direction, Irina slipped around the building and peeked her head through the door. The bottom floor of the tower was a single open room with a table and some chairs, some shelves on the wall, and a staircase on the right side. No guards were immediately visible, so Irina slipped all the way through the door and crouched part way under the table. Then she held still, trying to calm her breathing and listen past her loudly thumping heart.

Above her she could hear the soft creaking of boards as the guard in the top of the tower shifted position. The chilly wind whistled softly through a crack in the wall, and the Riften flag flapped against the outside of the building above the door. There were no shouts of alarm or footsteps running to find her.

After another moment, Irina stood up slowly and took a quick look around, finally spotting the small chest under the staircase. She crept silently to it and discovered it was locked. Of course it was. Luckily she had a set of picks on her in anticipation of her lesson with Vex later. She put them to use now, inserting one into the lock and working it carefully. It was not a difficult task, and soon she was lifting the lid of the chest.

Inside were several pieces of paper, a large purse of coins, a silver necklace and a Dwarven dagger. Irina flipped through the papers quickly, trying to find the one addressed to Mercer Frey. She found no such letter. There was one addressed to an _M_. She figured it must be the right one, since the others had different names on them. She pocketed the letter, as well at the neckless. The dagger she slid behind her belt, and the coin purse was stuffed inside her cuirass. She carefully closed the lid of the chest and went back to the door, spying for the guards through a knothole in the board wall.

Only one guard was visible. That wasn't good. She listened, but couldn't hear any foot steps; she was too far from the road where they were patrolling. She finally just decided to risk it. At any moment the guard from the tower could come down, or one of the guards from outside could come in. It was now or never. As soon as the one guard turned to face away from the tower, Irina walked out, keeping close to the building and heading back the way she came.

"You there! Hold up!"

Irina froze, her heart lodging in her throat. She briefly contemplated running, but that would prove her guilt. Maybe she could talk her way out of this one. She slowly turned around the face the guard. And adopted a relieved expression.

"Oh, thank the Divines, this tower isn't deserted!" she exclaimed. "Can you help me? I'm afraid I'm terribly lost."

"What are you doing snooping around the watchtower?" the guard demanded.

"I was hoping to find someone to help me, like I said," she replied with an irritable frown. "I've been traveling along this road for hours, trying to get to Riften. I've never been there before, and I guess it's a lot farther than I thought it would be. Unless I'm on the completely wrong road. That would just be my luck."

"You're on the right road," the guard assured. "Riften is just about an hour south of here. This road will take you all the way there."

Irina put her hand to her chest and let out a sight of relief. "Oh, Stendar's mercy, that's good to hear. Thank you so very much."

She turned to continue on her way, but the guard stopped her again after she'd taken only a few steps.

"I didn't see you come down the road."

"Well…" Irina hesitated, giving the man a bewildered shrug. "I did." She laughed. "How else would I have gotten here?"

He eyed her warily for a moment. "What is your business in Riften?"

"My aunt lives there," Irina replied without a beat. "She's fallen ill and I came to stay with her until she recovers. She's getting on in years and my mother didn't want her to be alone, so she sent me."

The guard continued to study her, his eyebrow arched skeptically. "You don't look like a traveller. Where's your pack?"

Irina forced an embarrassed chuckle. "Well, like I said, I didn't know Riften was this far. I came from Darkwater Crossing. My parents work in the mine there. I was hoping to make it to Riften in just a couple hours. It's turned into an all day affair; that's why I was starting to think I was lost. I'm glad my journey is nearly done, I'm looking forward to resting my aching feet. May I continue on my way?"

He regarded her a moment longer and then nodded his head. "Of course. Move along. Just you keep your nose clean in Riften. The city's got enough troublemakers as it is."

Irina let her jaw fall open. "I'll pardon your presumption, sir. I'm just visiting my aunt." With that, she turned sharply, flipping her hair at him, and walked along the road back toward Riften.

As soon as she was out of sight over the rise of the hill, she slipped into the trees on the left hand side of the road, letting the familiar things of nature conceal her. After putting a good distance between her and the guard tower, she crouched, leaning her back against a tree and took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves.

Only moment's later Brynjolf crouched beside her with hardly a sound. She almost startled at his sudden appearance, but on a soft breeze she caught the scent of sweet taffy only seconds before.

"Well done, lass, that was a close one," he said with a grin.

Irina blew out a breath. "That's an understatement. I really thought I would be spending tonight in jail."

"If he arrested you I would have stepped in," Brynjolf assured. "But you obviously didn't need it. You've got honey on your tongue, lass. You did good."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Brynjolf." His praise meant less to her than the knowledge that he had her back and would have risked himself to keep her safe. For some reason it made her feel warm inside.

"All that said, did you get what we came here for?" he asked.

Irina withdrew the letter from her pocket and handed it to him. "I could only assume this is the one for Mercer. His actual name wasn't on any of them."

"Aye, that's the one, lass. Mercer never signs his full name. Harder to trace that way."

"That's not all I got," Irina said, producing the dagger, neckless and coin purse along with a triumphant grin.

Brynjolf chuckled. "Good for you, lass, you're getting the hang of things." He waved her away when she tried to hand him the items. "I only wanted the letter. Anything else is yours to keep."

Irina returned the items to her person and then slumped back against the tree again. "Now if only my nerves would get the hang of things, I'd be all set."

"It's the thrill I love the most about our line of work," Brynjolf admitted. "You don't feel the same?"

Irina shook her head adamantly. "I hate danger or tense situations. I usually try to avoid them if I can."

Brynjolf snickered. "Then you're in the wrong line of work, lass."

"Yes, well, it wasn't for the thrill, you know? I stole because I had to. I never got used to it though. It never got easier."

Brynjolf considered. "The ability to think under pressure like that isn't easy for most people. You must have a gift, lass."

"Well, at least I'm good at something," she said with a laugh.

He patted her on the knee. "Let's go. You've still got lessons with Vex."

Irina groaned. "Ugh… don't remind me."


	17. Dogs and Weasels

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Dogs and Weasels**

**–**

"Good, you're ready for a master lock," Vex informed after Irina had successfully picked her most difficult lock yet. Vex handed her another set of picks and then pointed to one of the practice chests. "You get two tries with this one. Make them count."

Irina took a deep breath and let it out forcefully through her nose as she crouched in front of the chest. "So glad to know I'm nearly finished with these lessons."

"Believe me, so am I," Vex said drily.

Nearly a week of daily training sessions with Vex had worn them both thin. Irina had hoped that it would draw them closer, allow them to be more comfortable in conversation. Her hopes had been in vain, as Vex had no interest in being friends. Their relationship was strictly professional. Any attempt at idle chitchat by Irina was met with curt responses and reminders to get back to the task at hand. Irina had finally given up. If Vex didn't want to have friends, that was her business.

Irina focused intently on the lock, but she still saw Sapphire from the corner of her eye enter the training room.

"There you are," Sapphire said. "Irina, did you say something to Vipir?"

Irina arched an eyebrow and glanced up at the other woman briefly. "Say something to him? About what?"

"About me, I don't know. About how he treats me."

"Maybe. Why?"

"He just gave me this." She held up a slightly battered sprig of blue mountain flowers. "He said their color made him think of me." Her face displayed a look of utter bewilderment.

Irina grinned. "That was sweet of him. They're pretty."

"Last week he called me a stupid cow and this week he's giving me flowers? I don't get it."

"Sapphire, he likes you," Irina informed. "I think you've been too busy hating him to realize that."

Sapphire huffed in disbelief. "He's such a bastard. He has no respect for women at all."

Irina shrugged one shoulder. "At least he's trying. That's more than can be said about some men."

Vex snorted. "Isn't that the truth."

Both younger women looked at her. "You having trouble with men, too, Vex?" Sapphire asked.

"Delvin," she answered shortly. "Won't leave me alone. I caught him trying to spy on me while I was bathing. The degenerate."

"Delvin, really?" Irina said in surprise. "I wouldn't have thought. He's such a sweetheart."

"Just you wait, your turn will come," Vex assured.

"He's just a typical man, Vex," Sapphire said wisely. "I learned long ago that every one of them is ruled by his base animal instincts, and none of them ever rise above it."

"That's a pretty cynical outlook," Irina said with frown. "Surly that isn't true for all men."

"It's been my experience," Sapphire insisted. "Show me one that's better and prove me wrong."

"My father was a good man, and so was my brother," Irina informed.

"And look what it got them," Vex replied with a snort. "Good men die young."

Irina frowned. "What are you saying? Good men aren't worth our time? Dishonorable men aren't either. So are we doomed to be alone forever?"

"In our line of work?" Vex said. "Probably so. Best you have that understood before it's too late."

Irina stared at both of them for a moment, then shook her head. "I may be naive, but I don't believe that for a moment. I think men are just as capable of love and respect as women are. They're just not always as skilled in showing it."

Vex scoffed. "I've been hurt by every man I've ever known. Spider webs are stronger than my faith in men."

"Even by Brynjolf?" Irina asked. She had never seen Vex open up as much as this and she wanted to take advantage of the opportunity.

"_Especially_ by Brynjolf," she snapped back. "Of all the men I've known I thought at least _he_ would be the true one. But I was proven wrong and made to look the fool yet again. I've had it with men."

"What did he do to you?" Irina asked.

Vex sent her a glare. "You know, I don't want to talk about it. If you're not going to quit this pointless chatter and get back to your lesson then I'm going to call it a night."

"Yeah, you know what, I think I'm done for the day anyway," Irina said.

"Fine." Without another word, Vex turned and stalked from the room.

Irina exchanged a glance with Sapphire. "She could light a hundred torches with that temper of hers. Have you ever been able to have any kind of lengthy conversation with her?"

Sapphire shook her head. "Not even once. Not that I've been here much longer than you have. I've never cared about getting to know her though."

Irina sighed and then gestured to the flowers in Sapphire's hand. "Don't discount Vipir's efforts. At least he's making some. I really think he likes you, beyond just wanting to sleep with you."

"What makes you think that? Because I haven't seen it."

"He looked genuinely hurt by your rejection the other day. If he didn't care about you he'd just shrug it off without batting an eye." Irina put her lock picks away in their little leather folder and then stuck that into her pocket. "You talk about men being no better than animals. I think we women are fully capable of behaving just as badly, if we let ourselves get angry enough." She gave Sapphire a smile and then headed out of the training room. She was late for her lesson with Vipir, and hoped he remembered about it so she wouldn't have to track him down.

~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~

After a week of intense and frustrating pickpocket training with Vipir, Irina finally managed to extract the coin purse from the jingle bell pocket without a sound. Vipir was not quite ecstatic, though he was liberal enough with his praise. He decided it was time for her to graduate to pockets on real live people. While Irina had been eager to move to the next phase of her training, she was also nervous. A pocket full of bells could only jingle at her for removing its contents. Getting caught picking an actual person's pocket would not be so harmless, nor as musical.

Vipir had trained her well, however, and over the course of three days, she managed to pick the pockets of Vekel, Tonilia, Cynric and Dirge, all without being detected. Her streak of success is what prompted Vipir to assign her the lesson she was currently attempting to accomplish, but her faith in her own abilities was not as great as his, apparently.

Her nerves were strung tighter than a bowstring as she watched her target from the shadows at the edge of the armory. He was standing at his desk, hands braced against the warn, dark wood, studying the ledger that lay open before him. As far as she could tell, he wasn't aware of her presence.

Irina's ability to move silently was nearly unmatched within the guild, Brynjolf had told her so. It was one of the few things she was actually good at besides archery. She was not afraid of discovery upon her approach, but Mercer was sharp, and sly. If anyone would detect her it would be him, and he would likely not let her know about it. What she was really afraid of was getting caught with her hand in his pocket, as she had a feeling he would not find it funny like Thrynn had.

She glanced across the Cistern where Vipir was sitting on the edge of his bed watching her, arms folded across his chest. It was late, and several of the thieves were already asleep. The rest were in the Flagon, probably getting drunk so they would be able to sleep. If it weren't for the constant soft roar of the water falling from the culverts in the ceiling the place would be deathly quiet. Irina breathed a quiet prayer of thanks for small favors.

She crept all the way around the corner until she was behind Mercer. If she had been an assassin she would have struck by now. Luckily for Mercer that was the farthest thing from Irina's mind as she reached her hand out, taking a couple small steps closer. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of her brow despite the chilly air of the Cistern.

Which pocket should she steal from? There were many choices, from regular pockets to multiple belt pouches. The pockets would be the most difficult, so she opted for the belt pouch over his hip. As Irina drew nearer her target, her nose caught the sour scent of ale mixed with something she swore was mint. Somehow it suited the guildmaster. She reached for the pouch's leather flap and lifted it carefully.

Instantly his hand was around her wrist with near crushing force. Irina's heart nearly seized as he twisted her arm around behind her as he turned to face her, his gray eyes reflecting the amber light of a nearby lantern. He pulled her so close she could see the detail of the stubble on his chin, none growing from the scar that traced its way down from his lip. So close she could feel his hot breath on her face when he spoke.

"Sloppy, and foolish," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You think you'll ever be skilled enough to outwit me, girl? I didn't win my position as guildmaster because of my good looks."

"Just doing what I was told," Irina said, her voice sounding small and strained in her own ears.

Mercer snorted. "I'm sure Vipir told you to pick my pocket _without_ getting caught. He obviously has more faith in your abilities than I."

Irina tried to shift out of his grip but he held her tight. "If you're so sure of my failure then why did you bother having me trained?"

"Because I don't run a guild of milk drinkers. If you want to make it in this business you need to have what it takes, and you're far from impressing me."

He raised his free hand and dangled something in front of her face. It was an amulet of Talos, and for a moment Irina was confused. Mercer didn't strike her as the religious type. Then it hit her like a sack of hammers. That was _her_ amulet of Talos, the one she kept safely tucked in the _inside_ pocket of her cuirass at all times. How had he taken it without her even suspecting?

He smirked at the look dismay on her face. "Surprised?" he mocked.

"Mercer, give it back," she said evenly.

"It's interesting the secrets you can find in someone's pockets," he reflected, ignoring her plea. "I should have known you were a rebel at heart. What other secrets are you hiding I wonder?" His tone was more challenging than curious.

Irina gritted her teeth and mustered up her best glare. "Mercer, give me back my amulet."

He squeezed her wrist extra tight before letting her go with a slight shove, pushing her away from him. "You want this back so badly? Then take it, if you can." He slipped the amulet deep into his pants pocket and then looked up at her, his nose wrinkling with a sneer, a challenge in the glare of his eyes.

Irina's mind scrambled for something smart to say, but no words formed on her lips. She could only stare at him, mouth slightly agape, her knees shaking.

"Now get out of my office," he rumbled.

Irina hesitated, not wanting to leave her precious amulet in the possession of that awful man, but she realized quickly that she had little choice. She couldn't exactly pick his pocket right then, if ever. She clenched her jaw and tilted her nose in the air slightly, giving him a defiant look. Then she marched back across the Cistern to where Vipir waited.

By the time she reached him her tough act had deteriorated and her lip trembled as she sat on the edge of his bed.

"Irina, I'm sorry," Vipir said softly. "I shouldn't have had you practice on Mercer."

"What? No laughs at my expense this time?" she quipped, sending him a sideways glare.

"I've been there before, Irina. Tangling with Mercer isn't funny."

"No, it's not," she agreed. She leaned her elbows on her knees and pressed her trembling hands over her face.

"I won't make you do it again," Vipir assured her. "There are plenty of others to practice on."

"Mercer didn't really give me a choice. He took my amulet of Talos and said I have to take it from him if I want it back."

"So just get a different one," Vipir said, as if the solution were that easy.

"You don't understand," Irina insisted, a note of desperation in her voice. "That amulet is the only thing I have from my childhood. My mother gave it to me when I was ten years old. I can't just replace it."

Vipir let out a slow breath and then Irina felt his hand on her back, rubbing gently. "I'm sorry, Irina," he said again. "Mercer's a real weasel."

Irina sighed out a tense breath and leaned against him briefly, appreciating the comforting gesture. "I think I'd like to get some sleep now, Vipir." She could almost feel his grin as he wrapped his arm around her. She shot him a glare as she sat up straight. "In my own bed, you rascal."

He chuckled as she stood up. "Sleep well, Irina."

–

A/N: A big thank you to all who have reviewed and followed! I love reading the new reviews whenever I post a new chapters. It keeps my muse awake, especially right now when, unfortunately, my muse is getting a little sleepy and I've been having a hard time staying inspired. So please send me some encouragement so I can keep posting regular chapters! I don't want to stop writing until this story is done!


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